The Falling of the Leaves
by Phoenix Oblivion
Summary: Generations after Firestar died, the clans have been beaten and suppressed by a dark cat named Shade and his army of rogues. On the morning of their victory, the first of Leaf-fall, they decreed that on this very day, every year, the four clans would offer up six cats to fight to the death in an arena of danger and blood. 24 cats. Only one victor. Will your favourite win?
1. Chapter 1: Blazewing

**Author's Note: HI EVERYBODY! I've really had this idea for ages, no idea why it took so long to get published. I'm just lazy, I suppose. **

**Anyway, this story follows four warriors, one from each clan, who, as you've probably guessed, are about to be reaped as some ****representatives to fight in the The Falling of the Leaves celebration. Though it's a predictable story-line (the clan are forced to take part in a Hunger Games and all that) I thought that this would be a little different. Because as stated in the summary, a clear victor is not decided! After we're about five or six chapters in, and we've got to know our main characters a little, I will set up a poll on my page, and the character with the most votes will become the winner of the Falling of the Leaves! This chapter is from the POV of Blazewing, our ThunderClan tribute. I know the first four chapters will be slightly dull since it's mostly just going to be introducing the characters and the reapings. But bare with it! it will get interesting soon, don't worry!**

**So yes, I hope you enjoy it. Read on, and plunge into the world of Ashstrike, Blazewing, Nightstalk and Shimmerfur!**

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**Blazewing's POV: **

A small, reddish brown squirrel scurried through the undergrowth: searching with it's hawk-like eyes for nuts and seeds lying on the forest floor. The animals bushy tail waved in the air like a flag, almost like it was inviting a hunter to come and sink it's claws into the prey's back-bone. Blazewing shook his head. _Stupid thing, _he thought. Slowly flexing his claws and jaw, the ginger tom shot forward and expertly inflicted the killing bite upon the squirrel; it hardly turned it's head before it turned and met death right in the face. Purring at his catch, Blazewing began to pull catch back towards the overwhelming scent of his camp. It would feed half of ThunderClan... they'd need on a day like this. The male turned his head to the sky, watching as the dappled leaves slowly fell from their branches and onto the ground. It was the day of Leaf-fall- and that meant only one thing to the ThunderClan cats. It was the time when they would send six of their warriors, or even apprentices, to their imminent murder. Trying to shake his head of thoughts, Blazewing concentrated on his prey and tried to imagine the face of his mother, Sandpelt, as he carried this monster of a squirrel into the camp. She might even smile! The tom had never seen Sandpelt smile since their father had died.

Slowly, Blazewing arrived at the quarry. Through the entrance of brambles, he could just about see his clan mates lying in the open, their muscles sagged and their eyes drooped with dread. He sighed. Every day it was like this, miserable and dark. Every cat was haunted by Shade's dark, violent and evil reign over the clans. Ever since he and his huge band of blood-lusting rogues had beaten the clans in a war that had lasted almost two days, two days of endless fighting, life had lost that thing we once called _happiness_. On the morning that Shade had beaten us, the first day of Leaf-fall, he had decreed that for ever more, on this very day every year, the four clans would offer up six cats, three toms and three she-cats, to fight to the death in a reminder of their loss against his rogues. It has been know, ever since, as the Falling of the Leaves. Taking a deep breath, Blazewing plunged into the clearing. "I'm back everyone!" he yowled.

Suddenly, cats turned their heads, and as they always did, let the smallest smile pass over their faces; for just a moment. Then they would simply retreat back into their shells of sadness. ThunderClan's pathetic excuse for a leader (Rockstar) raised his head. "Blazewing."

"Yes." He called back, dropping the squirrel down at the Highledge. "I caught a squirrel," he exclaimed, proudly raising his head. "It will feed half the clan!"

Rockstar looked down at the cats below him, narrowing his eyes. "It may fill their bellies," he murmured. "But I doubt it will fill their souls." This was all he said, before disappearing into the shadows of his den. Blazewing's own anger levels rose. _That damned tom could at least try to raise our spirits!_ He imagined ripping his claws into the leader's face, pulling that scowl of his mouth. _I might as well be the leader._ It suddenly occurred to him that to the cats of ThunderClan, perhaps that was exactly what he was. Their leader.

Turning around, he nodded at the his friends and family, who were eyeing his prey hungrily. He grinned. "Go on, help yourself!" They didn't have to be asked twice. Instantly, everyone shot forward and began to dig their teeth into the juicy flesh of the squirrel. Blazewing felt his stomach swell with pity. This was what his once powerful clan had been reduced to. Starving and unhappy, wishing they were dead every moment they lived. He hated watching them eat almost as much as he hated Shade. _StarClan, they're just so- NO! _He roared. _Don't even think about StarClan. Where were StarClan when he beat us to pulp and __suppressed us into darkness?_

Blazewing sat down, neatly tucking his paws under his belly, and began to dose in the heat of sun-high. He closed his eyes, trying to grasp what was real and what wasn't. _Today, I'll most likely watch another six of my friends be chosen to die by one of Shade's little brutes._ Oh... I don't want them to go. We're nothing. already. How much longer will these horrible cats torture us? "Blazewing?" a voice woke him from his daydream. "Aren't you going to eat?"

It was Mintpaw, the small, silvery she-cat. Her clear, innocent blue eyes sparkled in the light. He smiled grimly, for she had only just become an apprentice and didn't understand the horrors of the Falling of the Leaves. The cat looked up to Blazewing, and return, he had always kept a close eye out for her too. It was hard not to adore the small and cute Mintpaw. "Not at the moment, Mintpaw," he said.

She frowned, tilting her small head to one side. "Why not? Everyone else is!" She gestured towards the cats savagely ripping the squirrel apart. "Why shouldn't you?"

"Oh Mintpaw." Blazewing shook his head. "You need it more than I do- you're a strong and growing cat."

"But you caught it!" she said, swallowing large mouthful and trying to speak at the same time. "What's wrong with eating for you? I mean, you always the first cat to go hunting, but you don't act anything like us with food."

"Really," Blazewing retorted, getting a little frustrated at the young cat's pestering. "You definitely need it more than I do. All of you look half starved, at least I've got some fat on me."

Mintpaw stared at him for a long time, before shrugging. "Whatever you say Blazewing." He nodded. _Good. I don't want to look weak if I really do get reaped for the Falling of the Leaves. _Sometimes the ginger tom honestly wanted to go into th games instead of his clan-amtes, then he would have to listen to one of damn Shade's thugs tell ThunderClan gory and vivid descriptions of how our kin had died. He would go in looking wild and start, like a survivor, someone used to living without support. That was the kind of impression he would play with the interviewer.

"You know, you really should listen to Mintpaw." Blazewing growled inside his cat begging him to eat! At least this time it was someone he could actually communicate with. Not that he didn't like Mintpaw, but... as he had said, she just didn't understand. This cat was Thrushclaw. He was a handsome brown tabby cat with deep green eyes and long, swishing tail.

"And why do you think that, Thrushclaw?" Blazewing questioned, calmly.

Shaking his head, the brown tom sat down beside Blazewing and looked deep into the other's eyes. "Come one Blazewing!" he said quietly. "Snap to your senses. We owe you so much for the help you've given us over the moons. I can honestly say we would have died if it weren't for you." His words touched a soft part in the ginger cat's heart. "What good are you doing both you and yourself if you don't eat."

There was an ominous silence in which Blazewing could hear his heart thumping in his throat, before one word echoed. "Okay." Slowly, side by side with Thrushclaw, the tom made his way over to his catch, were his clan-mates gave the two of them space to sit down. There, suddenly, he found himself devouring the prey with as much eagerness as the other members of ThunderClan. "Is feeding always like this?"

Thrushclaw looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is eating always this..." he stopped, searching for the right word. "Desperate?"

Immediately, he heard Thrushclaw's reply. "Yes. It is.

That was when the world stopped.

"I do hope you're not getting too comfortable down there!" Blazewing turned his head to see who it was, and then a growl eminated from somewhere deep within his conciousness. For it had come. The reaping. _Holly was here. _The black she-cat, one of Shade's main lieutenants, made her way down into the camp, well fed and smiling. How dare she smile! How could she enjoy sending people to their deaths. "Gather gather!" she said, cheerfully. "The reaping will start soon!"

Don't remind me, Blazewing thought silently. Holly, still surrounded by bodyguards whose claws glinted in the sun menacingly, had finally found her way through the crowd and was sitting beneath the ledge. "So, where is ThunderClan's all mighty leader?" There was an edge of mockery in her tone and Blazewing instinctively bristled, and only to hear Thrushclaw's comforting whisper.

"I'm here." Rockstar yowled. Like he was already beaten, the shaken tom fought his way out of the den, until he was right beside Holly. "So, are you going to continue?"

She tutted, scraping her paws along the rock and letting her tail thud the ground. "So eager! Well, might as well get it over with." Clearing her throat, the she-cat began. "Well ThunderClan! So fantastic to see your... excited... faces once more." She smiled: ThunderClan glared. "Yes, so moving on. Here is the moment of truth! The cats who will represent you in the Falling of the leaves competition this year are..." You could have heard- a _leaf_ fall in the silence that followed, where Holly paused for dramatic effect. "Runningsong."

Every head turned to the right, where the wiry she-cat sat. Blazewing was definitely surprised at how calm, cool and collected she looked. Almost carelessly, the cat made her way to the front until she was beside Aspenpaw. The ginger tom hadn't really known her well, all he knew was that she was a good hunter, and could fight if it came to it.

"The first male contestant." Holly quickly continued, trying to keep her voice bright. "Aspenpaw!"

An agonised wail sounded as the small, frightened tom made his way towards the front of the clan, shaking uncontrollably. Blazewing groaned. Not an apprentice.

"Well, what a handsome new representative!" Holly squealed girlishly as Aspenpaw approached. "The next female is Grassfur."

Another cat destined to die. Her approach was much like Aspenpaw's. Prepared to run if a twig snapped. He shook his head. ThunderClan hadn't had a victor in years; the future seemed bleak for this Falling of the Leaves as well.

"Well," Holly murmured. "Aren't ThunderClan offering up some great tributes this year! Our next male is Wildheart."

Blazewing inspected the senior cat. He had never really been a great hunter or fighter, average all around. It looked like he was dead for sure. The poor cat was nearing elder age! He looked away as Wildheart sat down beside Runningsong and Aspenpaw and Grassfur.

"The last two!" Holly said politely. "We have, Petalfall!"

This contestant was definitely much different from all the others. She had allways been the most attractive she-cat in the clan, and as she stepped forward she seemed almost dazzlingly delicate. Blazewing wouldn't bet on her chances, but she would certainly get fans: she was easy to look at.

"And so!" Holly's voice fell down to an unceremonious whisper. "We have our final tribute and our final tom for this year! Give it up for... Blazewing!"

StarClan. No. This isn't possible.

_I'm going into the arena._

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**_ So what do you guys think of Blazewing? Like him? Tell me your thoughts in a review. Plz!_**


	2. Chapter 2: Nighstalk

**Author's Note: Chapter Two is up already! Wow. Suppose I just felt really motivated. :) Anyways, as I said, the first four chapters are just introducing the characters. So walk into ShadowClan territory! This chapter is based solely on the POV of Nightstalk, who is basically what we would call a Career Tribute in The Hunger Games books. Her father has been teaching her to fight and hunt for a long time, and she sees winning the celebration as her destiny... but it all depends on the public's choice! In the book and on my profile page. Hope you guys enjoy reading about her!**

**Also, I give thanks to LavenderHeart839, koryandrs, Keeralie Starflight, jayfeather12345, Berk'sWarrior, and Horse26 for reviewing Chapter One!**

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**Nightstalk's POV:**

_It was the day_! Nightstalk grinned as she stepped out into the sunlight: _it's the day I'm going to volunteer for the Falling of the Leaves! _As usual, the ambitous young warrior was the first cat of ShadowClan to wake up. She was currently patrolling the borders on her own, waiting to see if any clan would intrude on their territory; it was very unlikely of this happening on the first day of the celebration. Still, she needed something to control her excitement. All that her father had taught her for so long had been boiling down to this! Smelling the air, she followed the scent-line running all the way down ThunderClan's border. No sign of them. Good. Suddenly, a familiar aroma wafted into her nostrils. Holly, one of Shade's favourite she-cats, must have already gone to reap out the forest clan's tributes. _I wonder who I'll be facing in the arena? Probably a bunch of useless cats who hardly know how to hunt! _Lots of the clans had lost hope since Shade won, almost five years ago. Now, when he was almost ninety six moons old, the tom was as strong as powerful as even, even if his youth was slipping away. The Falling of the Leaves was like his sign of strength: he could still make cats die, he could still make you watch in horror as clan-mate turned on clan-mate. Five celebrations had taken place, and ShadowClan was the only one to have won twice. All the others had only managed to pull off one victory.

_Well this year, all that's going to change! _Nightstalk grinned. _Soon, ShadowClan will be the only clan to have won three_ times. Satisfied, the she-cat turned and round and walked back through the dark pine trees of her territory. It didn't take long to reach her camp for she had been roaming this place for almost three long years of training. Her claws sheathing and unsheathing themselves the ground, excited with the prospect of feeling her teeth rip into her opponents throats, she padded into the camp. The cats were alive and sharing tongues in the clearing, happiness and a content feeling coursing through their veins. _We are the best clan by the lake. We can find hope in the darkest nooks and crannies. _Nightstalk padded towards the fresh-kill pile; it was highly stocked. Picking a juicy blackbird, she sat down and began to tear huge chunks of meat off the animal sitting next to her friend, Redfur. The dark ginger she-cat looked at her with interest. "Why are you in such a hurry to finish that?"

Nightstalk stared at Redfur like she had gone mad. "Why am I in a hurry? It's the Falling of the Leaves today, you idiot." She snapped, turning back to her food.

For a moment, the she-cat still seemed puzzled. But then she sighed, realising the horrible truth. "You're still hooked on winning it? Really Nightstalk? I can't believe you actually want to go and kill cats!"

"Why can't you believe it?" she snorted, angling her eyes away from the female. "My father taught me, without fail, every single day in preparation for the time that I would be ready to make him proud. It's all I've wanted. No, it's all I've desired. No, it's all I've ever dreamed of!"

Redfur's eyes widened in shock and she took a small step backwards. "Murdering?" she choked. "That's what you've wanted to do all your life? Don't you know how horrific and completely sick that is?"

Very slowly, Nightstalk's eyes vision swerved to the left until she was staring right into the other cat's eyes. "You sound like one of the weaker, pathetic, useless excuses for a cat in Thunderclan, RiverClan and WindClan." Redfur opened her mouth to protest but Nightstalk would hear nothing of it. "We're the pure ones! We look in the face of loss and see victory. If you're so cowardly as to believe that killing is wrong, then maybe you should join another clan." Then without another word, the black she-cat got to her paws and marched off, tail held high and proud in the air. Solitary. An unapproachable cat. And who would want to talk to her anyway? The cat whose dead father had made her into a monster-

Her father. That single thought washed over her for a few seconds. The cat who had trusted her when no one else. The cat who had made her who she was today. _Rookfang. _Quickly, she shook her head of the thought. No. This was not the time for grief. She was going into the games... today. It was now or never. "Nightstalk?" a call echoed.

The she-cat turned her head. "What?" she snapped, instantly frustrated that some cat who interrupted her memories of her father.

It was Thorntooth, a ShadowClan tom. He gestured for her to sit down beside him. "Come here. I want to talk to you about something." The she-cat's guard was immediately up: it was an instinct, another thing that she had to thank Rookfang for. Never trust someone at first look. True, he was in her clan. But she had never really communicated with the tom. At the sight of her face, he smiled. "Come here! I don't bite."

Her angers levels rose. _How dare he humiliate her._ Hostility filled her mind, but she couldn't back down from a challenge. It was just like losing a fight; that was something she couldn't bare. Claws unsheathed, she padded towards him with gritted teeth and sat down. "Yes?" she asked.

He stared straight forward, as if he couldn't hear her. "I hope you ready to fight, Nightstalk."

_He means the celebration. "_Of course I'm ready you mousebrain!" she hissed, raising her hackles. "You, of all cats, should know the way your best friend trained me."

"Of course I do," Thorntooth cut in quickly, his tail swishing along the dirt floor. "Rookfang was a great frined towards me; I know that. And that's why I have to do what I'm about to do."

Nightstalk's eyes diluted slightly, head cocked in interest. "And that would be?"

Looking down, the tom muttered quietly so that no one else could hear. "The Falling of the Leaves: I'm going in too."

If the she-cat had been expecting anything from the ruddy tom, it definitely hadn't been that. Slowly, she stopped bristling, but wouldn't her guard down. "Why would you rather be fighting in the games when you could be cosying away and doing the thing that the rest of these cats have always done. Hidden!" she said, finally.

"Because I owe it to him." He said simply, and like it didn't bother him: his loyalty made Nightstalk trust him a little more than before. "In the battle against Shade, we fought for days on end, and he saved my life countless times in the battle. If it means I have to sacrifice my own life for you when your in danger, then I'll do it to pay back the debt.

Nightstalk sat there, slowly running Thorntooth's choice over her tongue and mind. She knew she would rather be alone in the arena, and she wouldn't want to give this cat any credit for the cats that _she_ killed. But still... having a bodyguard would be an undeniable advantage when she was in in combat against the twenty four other competitors. _Yes, _she thought, _I'll let him tag along a little. But when he ceases to be of importance to me, I'll kill him._ "Okay," she said, smirking: her chances of winning the Falling of the Leaves improved by the second. "But when we're we in the celebration, we are doing everything may way. I'm in charge. You got it."

Thorntooth nodded, pleased that Nightstalk had accepted his proposal. "I've got it."

Suddenly, there was a cold, cutting voice than screeched across the ShadowClan. "Well well well! Isn't great to see the record breaking clan in normal life once more!" Energy coursed straight through Nightstalk's veins. It was him! The tabby tom that reaped the cats of this clan every year. Ice. He was handsome, but not nearly as handsome as he thought he was. He strutted down towards the camp like he owned the place, but behind his arrogance, there was something dangerous in his blue eyes. Something that told you that you wouldn't want to fight him in battle. "So!" he said, loudly and clearly. "Where is your loyal leader of ShadowClan?"

There was a small silence, before a white pelted she-cat emerged from her clan-mates. "I'm here, Ice." She shouted, but her voice wavered. _Why are you even afraid?_ Nightstalk wondered. _This is a moment of triumph!_

"Skystar!" Ice replied as he reached her. "Isn't it a wonderful pleasure to see you again." He dipped his head in a small acknowledgement of her authority, before turning to his muscular bodyguards. Almost in sync, they formed a protective circle around and Skystar, so that no cats could attack them when they were reaped. It had happened before: Shade was quick to learn from his mistakes. "The reaping will begin shortly." Now, his voice had lost the previous cheerfullness. He was now completely serious. "Gather round."

Obediently, all the anxious cats of ShadowClan moved closer until they were in clear eye sight for Ice. Approvingly, he began to clear his throat. Nightstalk felt her whole body swell with pride and anticipation. This was it. Nothing was going to get in her way. "So my fellow followers of Shade!" Ice began. "This years Falling of the Leaves will soon take place, but first, of course, we need contestants! Will your clan-mates win?" _Not my clan-mates, but I certainly will. _Nighstalk thought. "So, as usual, she-cat's first." He paused for a few moments before shouting, "The first tribute is... Fawnheart!"

A grey she-cat whose eye's were dull stepped out from the crowd. Her posture mirrored lost hope. At least this female had the decency to admit she was already dead. A noble loser.

"Welcome to the Falling of the Leaves Fawnheart!" Ice greeted the she-cat before turning back to the other cats. "Our first male representative is... Darkmoon!" Ice shouted.

A young, slightly horrified tom emerged from his friends and family. Gulping, he began to move forward, but his expression stayed calm. This cat was someone determined not show weakness. Someone who would die, oh yes, but with dignity.

"Another strong looking tribute stands before me Darkmoon." Ice commented. "Our second female is Ebonypaw!"

_An apprentice! _Nightstalk licked her chops. _Another nice, easy kill. _The she-cat had obviously no chance whatsoever to win; she simply kept her head down as she padded towards the front.

Ice gave a pleased nod, before once again clearing his voice. "Another male. He will be- Pinewhisker." This time, the excited Nightstalk had to crane her head to get a glimpse of the tribute. Again, he wasn't exactly much to look at. And suddenly, Ice was opening his mouth, getting ready to speak. Nighstalk got to her paws, ready to volunteer, and that was exactly what happened. "The last female is-" Ice began.

"Nighstalk!" the she-cat stepped forward, her head firm. Her eyes were black with confidence. "I volunteer!"

A few hushed, shocked whispers broke out amongst the group, and even Ice blinked in ferocious surprise, but he soon recovered. "Well how intriguing!" he called out, above the noise. "The Falling of the Leaves' first ever volunteer!" He inspected Nighstalk as she approached and sat down next to the others. "Aren't you a fiery one. I've heard from Holly that Thunderclan have two interesting tributes that seem to have a good chance of winning as well. We'll have to see how you hold you nerve in the interviews, won't we?" _Oh don't worry,_ Nightstalk wanted to snarl. _I will._

As it turned out, Thorntooth didn't need to volunteer like she had to have done. He was called as the tribute anyway. The tom sat down beside her, blinking, reminding her of what she had said earlier. "I remember," she whispered slowly. "And you should remember. We're doing this my way..."

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**So would all of you guys bet on Nightstalk's chances of victory against Blazewing so far? Tell me your thoughts one her!**_  
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**Also, the reason I said two of ThunderClan's tributes have a reasonably good chance of winning is because if you remember, the first she-cat, Runningsong, was just as cool and calm as Nightstalk. She's going to have an interesting part in the Falling of the Leaves as well...**


	3. Chapter 3: Ashstrike

**Author's Note: Hello you guys! I love you! You know why? My fanfiction is already on the first page of popularity on this archive. Well, here is Chapter Three! I hope you enjoy it. This time we are running over the hills with Ashstrike, our tribute for WindClan. You may find this warrior a lot different to different from Nighstalk and Blazewing. For each of the cats have a strong personality which they will play up a lot for the interviews in the Falling of the Leaves. He's slightly more... lets say... confined. Hope you enjoy it!**

**Thanks for reviews from Berk'sWarrior, jayfeather12345, Fox, koryandrs, Keeralie Starflight!**

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**Ashstrike's POV:**

_The Falling of the Leaves! _Ashstrike whispered in his mind. _It's today. _A colf breeze swept over the hills as the dull grey tom with amber eyes sat just outside his camp. His sensitive nostrils probed the air: just in the distance, he could scent the island. A place that had once been once been for Gatherings every moon; of course, Shade had banned that. It was the easiest way for two cats to meet and plan a rebellion. And he couldn't have that, could he? A long, low growl that came from deep within Ashstrike's throat echoed. _Shade. _The cat who he wanted to kill more than anything. A desire for revenge burned deep within his heart. The tom imagined digging his claws deep into that evil cat's throat. _What a pleasure that would be! _Ashstrike thought._ My own mother was killed in his damned little celebration. Murdered, when I was just an apprentice. And he didn't care. He doesn't care about the horrible grief he causes everyone in WindClan. All he cares about his maintaining his power over us. He could just take twenty four cats straight from us and kill them. But no. He just makes us watch, and suffer as we see our clan-mates turn savage-_

"Ashstrike!" a cheerful voice cracked into the tom's ear drums. He turned around and saw his medicine cat, Gorsefeather, sitting with her tail curled neatly over her paws behind him. "You should come back to the camp. There's lots of fresh-kill to spare."

This certainly wasn't true. The cats of WindClan had never been more starved of prey to eat, even though it was Leaf-Fall. "What makes you think that?" Ashtrike grunted, in his usual cold, unemotional tone.

Gorsefeather didn't answer this, she simply padded closer to the tom and sat down, sighing. "Just come back to camp. StarClan won't bring her back, no matter how much time you spend wishing."

"Don't talk to me about StarClan Gorsefeather!" Ashstrike snapped instantly, the fur along his back beginning to bristle. "They're just a fading story that a hopeless elder will tell a kit. Only fools believe in StarClan."

The medicine cat knew better than to question Ashstrike's view. It would only lead to an argument, and the grieving tom could always make his side of the argument sound so persuasive. It was one of the few skills he took pride in, everything else had just simply disappeared with his hope. He always seemed so miserable and unhappy... so Gorsefeather always felt that Ashstrike was her resposibility. He wasn't injured psychically, he was injured emotionally. "It's the reaping day today." She whispered so that no one else could hear. "If you go in, you'll need to keep your strength up."

"Don't remind me," Ashstrike hissed. "Did you really think I wouldn't know? _She _died in them! Every day I spend alive, I wait for the next Falling of the Leaves, hoping that maybe Shade will finally take pity on me and put me out of my misery."

"What?" Gorsefeather scolded. "That's no way to talk. WindClan needs you!"

"Need me?" Ashstriek grumbled. "I highly doubt that: I'll I do is sit around the camp all day, feeling sorry for myself." Without another word, the tom turned around and began to stare of into the distance once more. Gorsefeather frowned. The cat was was so difficult- to be honest, she didn't know why she even tried to comfort him. Maybe it was in the way the he held himself. Or maybe it was something like-

No! She couldn't think about him that way. She was a medicine cat. "Look Ashstrike," she said. "I'll be in my den if you need me. I'm sure you won,t and even if you did you probaly wouldn't admit." Still slightly lost in her thoughts, Gorsefeather turned around padded back to the camp, leaving Ashstrike along on the top of the hill. Closing his eyes, Ashstrike allowed his senses to latch onto the rotting trees of ThunderClan territory. His eyes darted through the undergrowth, searching for a sign of life (you could see the whole of the clans from his vantage point) and almost immediately, he caught sight of Holly, one of Shade's damn minions. She stood out against the mottled brown and ginger pelts of the ThunderClan tributes. Ashstrike squinted to get a better look at them. Almost instantly, he cast of four of them. None of them seemed in any shape to win the Falling of the Leaves; it was the last two, howver, that caught his attention. One of them had dark, olive coloured fur with calm and confident amber eyes. She was a wiry she-cat who, even from so far away, Ashstrike couldn't help feeling almost threatened by. The other was a sturdy, ginger coloured tom with deep emerald eyes. There was something in his posture that made the WindClan tom's eyes narrow as well. He seemed as if he had seen far too much already. He couldn't tell much else, and they soon disappeared back into bushes, away from sight. _I'm assesing them like I'm a tribute. _Ashstrike mused. And then suddenly, a small idea had sprouted in his mind. Really, it must have been there for moons, but the sight of the male and female's cold determination had set it off. Would Ashstrike have a chance at winning the celebration? The tom himself felt sure he could at least make it past the bloodbath, the time straight after the contestants had left their podiums, so why would he be able to fight his away to victory? Grinding his teeth together, he turned around and padded back into the mass of cats from WindClan, but he didn't follow Gorsefeather's advice and go to the medicine's den. His pride wouldn't allow it. Instead, he sat down by the fresh-kill pile and selected a rabbit, when he began to eat. Self-conciously, he began to inspect the cats of WindClan. For the first time in a while, he noticed how thoroughly beaten they looked. All of his clan-mates' fur were ungroomed and matted: even the fresh-kill was tough and almost unpleasant to eat. But still... this starved, poor and hungry place was his home. If he was reaped for the Falling of the Leaves, he would have to give all this away, no matter how bad it was._ But if I do go in, I'll finally be able to avenge my mother. _That was when Ashstrike truly made up his mind. He felt old even though he was a fairly new warrior; no matter how far he got- he swore in his mind, that he would try to win.

"Cats of WindClan!" Suddenly, an opressive voice cracked the air, and Ashstrike turned his head to meet the eyes of WindClan's tormentor. Surrounded by body guards though she was, the old she-cat who went by the name of Finch still looked as threatening as she had been in her youth. _This_ female, was Shade's mother. Instantly, everyone in the camp was on their paws and looking obediently towards Finch, and then they formed a tight pack in the centre of the clearing. They were used to being ordered around by Finch, for she was a cat of authority. At the front of the group was Rabbitstar. He padded forward and greeted her politely, though his eyes gave away ferocious nerves.

"Good afternoon, Finch-" he began to speak, but the yellowy she-cat cut in.

"Spare me the greetings Rabbitstar," she growled, unsheathing her claws meaningfully. "I'm here to select the representatives of WindClan. Nothing more and nothing less, so get the hell out of my way!" With this, she pushed past the leader and moved in a circle around the group to the gathering place. Her eyes swept over the group. Ashstrike began to groom himself, almost self-conciously. _If I'm not chosen, I'll just volunteer anyway._

"Once again, I have the burden of reaping out the pathetic excuses of cats who call themselves," she paused and smirked with pleasure, "_WindClan." _Though it was clear the cats below her were bristling with anger, they dared not speak out against Finch. She was Shade's mother, and if they did, it meant certain death. She opened her mouth and continued, "I'm surprised that you even managed to scrape one winner from the look of you right now. I wish I could switch places with Ice, then I might at least be given a half decent clan. But no, my son didn't even have the common decency to give me ThunderClan." She gazed at the cats below her for one more second, and then when it became clear to her that she wasn't going to get the satisfaction of a reaction from WindClan, she unsheathed her claws and hissed.

Then, Rabbitstar couldn't hold his frustration any longer. "Oh would you stop torturing us Finch!" he said, desperately trying to hold his hostility towards Shade's mother.

The ageing she-cat stared down at Rabbitstar for a very long time: tension sparked the air. Ashstrike couldn't help holding his breath. And then his leader gave in. "Since you're so eager to get going," Finch murmured. "Then who am I to stop you?"

And then the reaping began.

"WindClan!" Finch yowled. "Hear me out when I say the Falling of the leaves is soon to begin! But, first, you must offer up six tributes." Her words were bored and cold. She even started grooming herself in-between lines. Ashstrike felt fury take his body: she couldn't even be bothered to look us into the eye. "And so, as we always do, she-cats first." Her eyes darted around the clearing, and then her mouth opened once more. "Amberfur."

A small, un-intimiadting she-cat padded forward. Ashstrike couldn't help but feel a small swell of pity for the she-cat, but then he shook his head. If he was going to win this thing, he couldn't let himself get side-tracked. And he most certainly couldn't show mercy.

Finch purred; the sound was absolutely vile. "Fresh meat." She said. "The first male representative is Creekface."

A male began to approach Finch. From the look on his face, it was clear he knew a thing or two about keeping a poker-face. Ashstrike couldn't tell whether he was desperately afraid or confident!

"Another _promising_," Finch put a lot of emphasis on this word, "tribute for WindClan." She flicked her tail across his back. "Now, our second she-cat is... Harepaw!"

Ashstrike shook his head, not allowing his head to fall astray, as the apprentice heaved herself to the front. _She's going to die. _He thought. _Another victim of Shade's celebration. She's going to die in the blood-bath, just like my mother._

Finch said absolutely nothing as Harepaw sat down beside Creekface and Amberfur. It made Ashstrike feel slightly quest. _Keep a straight face._ "Now, for our second tom. Moorfang."

_Oh no. Not Moorfang! This wasn't happening. _Ashstrike had long since given up the word friendship, but in his apprenticeship, Moorfang had been one of his allies. He didn't fancy killing him. He would just have to hope another cat picked him of before he had too.

"Our last two." Finch seemed relieved to be nearing the end. "The final she-cat is- Flowerpelt."

Without knowing it, Finch had just condemned another innocent cat to a death she didn't deserve.

"And so, we have our final contestant!" Finch shouted, loduly and clearly. A hush fell over the crowd, every one held their breath. Waiting for the moment. "Ashstrike!"

_So I didn't have to volunteer anyway._

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**Well, that was another slightly depressing chapter! Tell me your thoughts on Ashstrike, and yes, more apologies on how long it's taking for the story to get going, but I'm just taking my time with this one. A lot of my other stories have been either rushed or overwritten, and I want to get the balance just correct on this one. Besides, I'm savouring the writing because I must say again, I'm thoroughly enjoying updating it!**


	4. Chapter 4: Twilightfur

**Author's Note: Chapter Four is up, and this one marks the end of the final tribute introduction chapter! Wonderful *grins evily* I can start writing the first training chapter.**

**Okay, so, just before I start, I'd like to thank Dawnclaw for giving me and OC for Twilightfur, the main RiverClan tribute for this story. I've enjoyed writing about her: I haver a few hopefully intriguing events that happen to her planned for the chapters building up to the start of the celebration. Hoep you enjoy it!**

**Thanks for reviews from Keeralie Starflight, Berk'sWarrior, koryandrs, Sheep4432 and Dawnclaw.**

**And just in answer to koryandrs review: yeah, it was a thing in the books. And I wanted to keep the cats truer to the series.**

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**Twilightfur's POV:**

A dark blue, striped tabby she-cat with sat by the medicine den, staring up at the glistening stars above. She sighed. Every night she would watch the moon in Silverpelt, wishing that she would get an answer for her prayers. Everyone except her in RiverClan had long since given up their faith in StarClan, but she had never really believed that her warrior ancestors had deserted her. They probably had a meaning for letting the clans suffer... they had too! _Oh, if there is anything that you can do, StarClan, please help us. _As usual, the twinkling stars gave her no answer. Turning around, she padded away from the camp and into the streams and banks of RiverClan territory: Twilightfur often did this. She needed to get away from cats a lot, with all the pain she saw the clan she had been loyal to every ever since her birth having to bare such suffering. It ripped at her mind and soul. She was certain that every cat by the lake probably thought exactly the same thing every moment, but she couldn't help it. _If I ever get the chance, Shade, you should watch your back. __Because if you don't, you'll soon find my claws scorching right across the back of neck. _She purred, enjoying the idea, but she soon shook her head and went back to the task she had left the camp for. Hunting. RiverClan could always use more fish on the fresh-kill pile. The scents of water and reeds flooded through her nostrils, lulling her into a run. When she was out was one of the only times she could truly be herself, even if it was at night. Sometimes, she even got accused of having a reasonably bad attitude back at home; _of course I do! _Twilightfur screamed in her mind. _Oh for StarClan's sake, who wouldn't be? We get humiliated and suppressed every day of our lives. _Soon, she reached a small brook full of tasty looking minnows. She knew that, after a lifetime of eating fish, that the small streamline creatures didn't actually sleep. They went into a kind of suspended state where their bodies stopped moving, and they simply floated in the same place. This allowed a keen hunter (like her) to catch them easily. But she would have to be quick. Twilightfur would be able to scope perhaps three out before they emerged from their strange rest. Slowly, she dropped into the classic fishing position and stared at the rippling surface for a long time, lying in wait for the moment when one of the fish would drift into position- WHAM! Her paws shot through the water, claws extended, scoping out not only the one she had targeted, but another that had had the misfortune to be swimming close to the other. The fish gave little struggle as she hauled them out onto the embankment, and buried her teeth straight into their necks. Just like that, it was all over. Purring, the she-cat turned around and began to pad back to her camp, thinking of how many cats these minnows would feed... and it was just them that a disturbing thought hit her, and she stopped, eyes wide with terrible fear. A few words flickered into her mind. _The odds aren't in my favour._ Those were the words of the slogan that Shade's cats had begun to infuse as the words of the Falling of the Leaves. The celebration was tomorrow! How could she have forgotten? Belly churning with what she remembered, Twilightfur dashed into her den and fell asleep, desperately trying to convince herself that she would not get reaped for the arena.

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The morning came, but absolutely no relief arrived. The she-cat blinked self-conciously, yawning; she was one of the first up, even though she hadn't been asleep for half the night. _Probably nerves, _she thought,_ it is the day of the Falling of the Leaves. _After a few more moments rest, nervously anticipating the events that would take place, Twilightfur got to her paws and padded outside. The sight of cats who had a strange quality in their pelts met her eyes: RiverClan was another one of the clans which hadn't yet lost all sense of hope. They were better fed than all the cats of the other clans before Shade had come, and they still were. True, even a cat with as much pride and loyalty as Twilightfur couldn't say they hadn't been affected by the dark cat's victory. They were thinner, and they had lost whatever fight that had once thrived amongst them. She sat down, selecting one of the minnows that she had caught the previous night, and began to eat. She closed her last, sending one last beg to StarClan. _Help us._

_"_Hey, Twilightfur!" a yowl sounded. The she-cat opened her eyes and saw Hailclaw, the new warrior, moving towards her. She sighed. It was obvious that he had a crush on her, anyone would be able to see it. "How you doing?"

"Not very good," she replied, choosing her words carefully. "It's the celebration today."

"Yeah," Hailclaw agreed instantly. "We'll have to watch six of our clan-mates maybe go to their deaths." He didn't sound very concerned. In fact, he sounded as if he didn't care whatsoever. "I wouldn't be able to live if you got sent in, Twilightfur." He murmured.

_So I matter more than RiverClan? Very loyal! _She thought, sarcastically. "Thank you." She said, shortly, as if it were a very small compliment.

"I mean it," he pressed, there was a note of decisiveness in his voice. "You're all I live for. I love you."

Twilightfur didn't answer. _Well he's obviously quit confident to say that openly in public. Unfortunately for him, I'm not that... mouse brained._ She gave a small nod of acknowledgement to Hailclaw, before she picked up her mouth and let the spot, practically fuming with rage. _How dare he! _She sat down right at the other end of clearing and spat on the ground, before continuing eating her fish. This made several confused eyes turn to stare at her.

"Why did you do that?" Twilightfur turned around and met the the eyes of one of her only friends, Reedpelt. The she-cat sat down beside her.

Instantly, Twilightfur felt her fur begin to bristle. "Why did I do that, Reedpelt? Isn't it obvious? You heard what he said! It was embarrassing. If I was reaped for the celebration, do you think that would help me win?Or at least get past th blood-bath."

"Okay, okay." Reedpelt was obviously trying not to smile. "Don't get your tail in a knot. he just likes you, you do stuff like that when you like someone. I would like having someone so obsessed with me."

Twilightfur stared at her speechless, but then she found that she couldn't help laughing. "Believe me, having someone fall in love you is much more complicated than you would have thought."

Of course, Twilightfur was soon going to learn, that love can sometimes live in even the darkest places.

There were a few moments of silence, before the subject of the Falling of the Leaves was once more brought up. "Can you see those cats, just there, on the moor?" Reedpelt asked, pointing her paw straight across the lake to the hills. Twilightfur narrowed her eyes, and realised that you could just about catch sight of the WindClan tributes. Finch, Shade's mother, was with them, leading them down. She couldn't make out any of them- but a few of them looked as if they knew what they were doing. Well, none F them were trying to run away. Some cats had been known to do that simply out of fear.

"Oh yes," Twilightfur nodded. She turned her head to the forest, and immediately noticed that yet another group of cats were coming from the heart of the undergrowth. "So ThunderClan and WindClan have already been reaped." She whispered. "What about ShadowClan."

Reedpelt nodded. "Uh huh," she said. "There they are." The she-cat's fear scent was ripe on the air; Twilightfur noticed that her friend was struggling to keep calm. RiverClan were going to be the last that arrived at the island, where Shade resided. _StarClan. Hadn't that place once been for Gatherings? Now, it's been scourged by the presence of that evil cat. __"_I hope I don't have to go in." Twilightfur heard Reedpelt mutter.

"We all don't want to go in," she comforted soothingly. "Oh, I wish someone had the guts."

"To do what?" she questioned, puzzled.

The RiverClan she-cat looked deep into Reedpelt's eyes, and shook her head. "I know it's impossible thinking but... I wish someone had the strength to start a rebellion..."

"I hope you're all sitting comfortably!" a booming yowl echoed across the clearing, and Twilightfur instantly knew what was happening. It was time. Immediately, sadness, and already a feeling of loss wrenched over the cats of RiverClan. Thy all gathered together beneath the meeting place, where their reaper, a muscular tom named Fang, sat. He grooming his whiskers and unsheathing his claws menacingly, showing the cats below him who was boss. "Because, if you are, then we can begin." He scanned the clearing. "Where is Lightningstar?"

"Right here," a tom equally big as Fang leapt up with him. He held his head high and proud, but he dared not show signs of hostility. "Who will be our contestants?" he asked.

"We will get to that point!" Fang replied calmly. The tom turned around and began to inspect RiverClan, baring his teeth. "You toms and she-cats seem nice and ready for slaughter." He said. Twilightfur's eyes narrowed. _Just get on with it! _"Some fiery warriors have been growing from the ashes this Leaf-Fall! I hope you're ready- because you'll have to be if any of you want to survive." His words sent a chill down Twilightfur's spine. "So, enough of my talk." He smiled a crooked smile. "The first female will be... Splashheart!"

A collective grown flew around the cats. Not her. She had never been able to even catch a fish. Twilightfur watched as the young she-cat padded forward into the jaws of death.

Fang flicked his tail over her back. "Fantastic. But now, we have our first male! Troutnose!"

_A senior warrior! _Twilightfur tilted her head to one-side. _You know, he doesn't look bad. He might do okay. _Twilightfur gave a small nod of encouragement as he passed and sat down next Splashheart.

"Ah!" Fang said, letting his tail flick up and down. "You've been lucky to last this long without going in haven't you? Our second female. Pebbleshine!"

Twilightfur's ears twitched, allowing herself to fill up with pity. _I hope you at least try to win. Don't lose hope._

Fang knew just as well as the RiverClan she-cat this cat was kidding herself if she thought she as going to win. "Our next representative is Willowpaw."

For Twilightfur, the next few moments happened in a strange blur. From the seconds that the apprentice had approached the front, from the second that Fang had begun to announce the last female, she had known something was wrong. Maybe it was the twitching in her pelt, or the black dots swarming in front of her eyes. All she could tell herself was that she had to keep calm. Her chances of winning the Falling of the leaves, were just as good as anyone else's. But she couldn't stop the pit of doubt that had begun to form inside her belly. _I am going into the arena. I am going to have to fight to the death._

_StarClan... if you can't help the clans. Then just promise me this._

_That you'll be with me._

_Even if the odds aren't in my favour._

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**Wow! I have officially finished the reaping chapters! So, I say without hesitation, LET THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES BEGIN!**


	5. Chapter 5: Sickening Luxury

**Author's Note: Whoa, I've had a seriously busy couple of days and I haven't been able to write all the way through them. It was torture. Anyways, chapter five is up! This is the second chapter from Blazewing's POV, I hope you like the way I tried to develop the friendship between Runningsong and him...and maybe another particular tribute *grins evilly*.**

**As usual, thanks for reviews from everyone who did! I really appreciate them. BTW, I am accepting OC's if anyone was wondering, and if you want to suggest any ideas for the plot line, I'll answer them in the AN the next time I post a chapter.**

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**Blazewing's POV:**

The ThunderClan tom's face showed absolutely no emotions, but inside, he was burning. So many feelings were swelling in his body: regret, loss, pain, everything you could think of was weighing him down, as if trying to prevent him from moving through the green undergrowth of the forest. Holly bounded up ahead, leading the way towardas the island. Shade's home territory. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of ideas; it was hopeless. He couldn't stop one thought from penetrating the barrier he had tried to form inside his head. _I'm going into the Falling of the Leaves. _Suddenly, his ears pricked and he turned to face the sound. It was Aspenpaw, the tiny apprentice: he was shivering with fear. It disgusted Blazewing, but somehow, he was comforted by the fact that he was not the cat struggling with being reaped the most. Grassfur, one of the she-cats, had her eyes closed. She seemed to be praying to StarClan to give her strength, but it was clear that she two was in a bad state. Then, Blazewing inspected the senior warrior, Wildheart, whose limbs were almost creaking with age. He was staring at the floor. He knew he was walking to his fate. Blazewing's felt pity fill his heart for the male. _He avoided competing in the celebration for so long, perhaps he truly thought that he would live to be an elder. _Then the tom was looking at Petalfall, the female obviously deemed to be the eye candy of this year's games. She was grooming her whiskers, as if she didn't understand the situation she was in... in fact, she probably didn't. _She's so caught in her appearance she wouldn't notice if a badger landed on her! _Blazewing shook his head. _But in suppose if I formed an alliance, our group would get fans. _Sometimes, this often influenced what happened in the arena.

And that was when he felt his eyes meet Runningsong's: instantly, he self-conciously groomed his whiskers, for he realised that the she-cat was staring right at him. There was a strange message in the dark, olive brown she-cat's eyes; Blazewing couldn't quite interpret. But there was some element of intentness in there, perhaps some pity... but honestly, he had absolutely no idea what the female was feeling- it made him curious. Usually, the ThunderClan tom had lots of time to connect with his clan-mates, as he was usually the first up hunting, but Runningsong usually preferred to be solitary and stay by herself. He knew nothing about her friends or family, in fact he had hardly known she was alive since the reaping. Without knowing, he found himself padding forward so that his paw steps met the same pace as Runningsong's, and soon he was moving right beside her. Awkwardness swept between them. Blazewing really didn't know what to say, so it was Runningsong who started their conversation. "What are you thinking right now?" she murmured.

Her voice had a strange sounded. It was gravelly and deep, but with a strange quality to it. "I'm sorry?" he said, confused.

"I mean," she replied, turning her eyes, deep and amber towards him. "What do think about the Falling of the Leaves?"

He blinked, surprised by how strangely hypnotic she was. He didn't answer right away. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't blame you for being suspicious," she whispered quietly, flicking her tail along the ground. "But this isn't just a _game, _as Shade would call it. If we're going to fight to our deaths, we may as well enjoy the time we've got left."

"You sound like you've given up." Blazewing commented, noticing her tone of voice.

"I've far from given up," she retorted, hackles raising slightly. "But you must admit, the odds aren't exactly in our favour. What with ShadowClan's reputation so high at the moment."

Those few words sent an unceremonious chill down his spine. _The odds aren't exactly in our favour. _"I suppose not, but giving up hope isn't the best way to approach the arena."

All Runningsong did was nod, making Blazewing's eyes narrow. _She really is mysterious. _He allowed his thoughts to wonder once more. _She certainly doesn't seem as bothered by the fact she's going in as much as any of us here... I'm thinking like a career. Assessing up all my rivals like this. _Blazewing gritted his teeth. "I think we're nearly here." He said, looking at Holly, who was beginning to grind down to a halt.

"Right then!" she said, cheerfully. "Faces up, smiles on. We need to make a good impression on the other tributes competing." _You know that you sicken me, _Blazewing hissed in his mind, before stepping out of the undergrowth with Runningsong standing proud beside him. Making their way towards the embankment of the lake nearby where the Shadowclan tributes. Their stench reeked over his nostrils and and he wrinkled his nose. Though a few of them were looking terrible, just like Grassfur and Aspenpaw behind him, he noticed the lean muscles and cocky smile of one of the she-cat's. Her facial expression displayed a mercilessly cat, not afraid to kill. Beside her was another tom who looked equally composed. Neither of them were cats that Blazewing recognised. Holly stepped forward to greet them. "Ice! A pleasure to see you again."

Ice simply flicked his tail in acknowledgment. "So, these are the ThunderClan tributes for this year." His probing gaze fell on Blazewing and Runningsong's unconcerned faces. "It seems they're a little more, let's say, impressive." The ginger tom growled: ThunderClan had utterly failed in the Falling of the Leaves the previous year. All of their tributes had died in the bloodbath.

"Where are RiverClan and WindClan?" Holly murmured, just loud enough for the he and Runningsong to hear. "They're always late."

"No matter," Ice said, "they'll know we went to the island ahead of them." The tom then turned around and lead the way across the lake-side, slowly travelling into the hills. The border scents were much less strong than they might have once been: the clans had become lazy about marking them ever since Shade had taken over. After all, what was the point of it anyway? They reached the tree-bridge very quickly, and Ice gestured with his eyes, allowing the ShadowClan tributes onto it first. Just as she was moving along the plank, the black she-cat, used her back legs to flick dirt right into the ThunderClan tributes eyes. Blazewing coughed and spluttered. _What the heck was that for?_ He didn't get an answer, for she had already disappeared over the bridge. He growled angrily as the rest of the ShadowClan cats passed over as well, allowing them to go over. He practically skipped over it, determined not to be out shone in confidence by the arrogant female, and he disappeared, alongside RiverClan onto the island.

Though he knew from all the stories about the Falling of the Leaves that the island was beautiful, he really didn't expect the amazing sight that next met his eyes. Behind him, his fellow tributes gasped, taking in the pretty aspects of Shade's homeplace. The whole ground was completely littered with flowers and herbs in full bloom, and the cats of their dictator's army were spread out across the thriving grassy area, sunning themselves. He felt his eyes narrow slightly. There were kittens enjoying themselves and having fun, completely unaware of the death and poverty roaming his birthplace. And suddenly, all their eyes were on him. They got up and began to cheer and shout, throwing words of encouragement at them, yowling at the top of their breath. It was pure luxury. These cats didn't see the pain in the tribute's eyes, all they saw was this year's grand entertainment... well, except for that she-cat from ShadowClan. _She looks as if she's been training for this her whole life. Actually, _Blazewing considered, _that's not exactly un-likely._

"Welcome!" Suddenly, a booming voice echoed across the whole island. Instantly, every cat fell silent. Blazewing turned his head to the top of a huge tree that stood in the middle of the clearing- a long, low growl echoed from deep within his throat. For he knew who this cat was.

_It was Shade._

"So," The tom shouted loudly over the many cats below him, a cold smile plastered over his face. The ginger tom of ThunderClan really couldn't help himself, but he found himself staring at him with interest. For he could tell that to the she-cats, he would appear extremely handsome. But in his charming manner, there was some kind of merciless element that would make even a lion freeze with absolute terror. His eyes seemed to glow: they were a deep, unimaginable crimson. The shade of red that you saw seeping out of one's wounds. The colour of blood. "These are this years tributes!" he said, calmly and cooly. "We have already pre-pared sleeping dens for you; I'm sure that since you have lived in clan territory for so long, you will find them worthy of the gods." He chuckled at his joke before continuing. "In two days time, the training will begin. Tomorrow, you will spend with your mentor, and I'm sure you will also spend it deciding which cats you would like to take out first." A shiver flew down Blazewing's spine, and he was sure the same thing happened to every other cat in the whole place.

And then that was it, his speech was over. His first sight of the cat who had killed so many had just made the tom hate him ever more than before. Ice and Holly had already started showing them which way their dens would be found. Blazewing followed Runningsong, who was padding forward with the same unemotional manner as before, and he settled down beside her, as he imagined, the most luxurious den he had ever seen. The threat of his death flickered into his mind, but he pushed it away. Right now, he needed as much sleep as he could possibly get.

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**I know, I know. So dull, but it was important for him to meet Shade and to get to know Runningsong a bit more. So yeah, tell me your thoughts, and plz review!**


	6. Chapter 6: Training

**Author's Note: The poll on my page is up! So anyone who's reading my story, would you please please please vote for your favourites? I'm keeping the results a secret, cause I want the victor to be a surprise. So yeah, the choice of victor is in your hands!**

**On a different subject, the first training chapter is up, and once again we'll have to face the arrogance of Nightstalk, our career. I think you'll find some interesting talks and conversations between Blazewing, Ashstrike, Twilightfur and her in the training session. Their mentors, I hope will be cool too.**

**Also, I know this is the sixth chapter and the games still haven't officially started yet. But it took ages to introduce the characters, and even though those chapters were extremely dull (which I really apologise for) they were important. So I've decided to cut to the chase and get the action going. This will be the only training chapter, and after this we'll have the interviews- I have something planned for them- and so the games will actually start in Chapter Eight. **

**Once again, thanks so much for your epic reviews! This is now my most popular story and it's currently the seventh most reviewed fanfic in the archive. Thanks again, and now, the training chapter.**

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**Nightstalk's POV:**

The jet-black ShadowClan she-cat woke up to see majestic sunlight splashing upon the walls of the den in which she slept. For a moments she was shocked; she unsheathed her claws, but then a cold, menacing smile fell over her face and she stretched luxuriously. _Of course!_ She thought. _The Falling of the Leaves: I've finally been reaped._ Turning around she saw that most of the other ShadowClan were already awake, shaking slightly with fear. _Cowards. _She rolled her eyes and stood up, flicking her tail lazily across the back of the tom beside her. "Thorntooth," she muttered. "Wake up, you lazy piece of fox dung."

The tabby male opened his eyes and stared up at Nightstalk, yawning slightly. "What is it?"

"Mousebrain," she retorted. "We need to get outside, it's the Falling of the Leaves!"

"Yes, but why the hurry to wake up?" he questioned. "If we're going to make an impression on the public, we should-"

"Don't advise me," she spat, instantly hostile. "We agreed that we would do exactly what I say when we were back in the ShadowClan camp... in case you don't remember." Her voice took on a threatening, icy tone.

"Of course I remember," Thorntooth replied quickly, raising his head. "I just wanted to point something out."

"Well then don't point anything out again." Nightstalk replied softly, baring her teeth. That shut Thorntooth up. _Now, he should know his place. I'm the leader, and Rookfang intended me to win. Not you._ "Come," she said, turning with her head held high and proud. "Let us see if RiverClan and WindClan have anything to offer." She heard the scuffle of pawsteps as Thorntooth dashed outside the den after her. In front of her lay a scene that was exceptionally similar to the day previously. The clearing was bustling with cats enjoying themselves, chattering about who their favourite tributes were, and which cat would have a chance in the arena. Several eyes met her's as they inspected the two more noticeable cats from the darker side of the forest, but Nightstalk didn't notice. She sat calmly down by the side of the clearing with Thorntooth, watching the other representatives. Only a about two of the cats from each clan were already awake, and something she noticed was that they all seemed to be sitting in pairs. Her eyes narrowed. One of them was an ashy grey tom with amber eyes that seemed as if they had seen too much. She knew that he must have only been three years (her age) but he seemed a lot older. And there was something potent in his eyes... a kind of hostility. Loss and terrible grid edged the way he stared back without any fear. He was a surviver, and he would be a killer if it came to it. _Maybe I should look out for him. _With him was a tom whose body was less lean, like the other's, more muscular. He was grooming himself, but his emotions were giving his fear away, unlike the collected cat beside him. _So those are some of the WindClan tributes._

Then her eyes turned to the left and saw a tom and a she-cat who reeked distinctly of fish. _RiverClan. _The first was an attractive… no, she wasn't just attractive… she was absolutely _stunning. _Even Nightstalk had to admit it. It was something in her posture. The way that the tabby blue stripes upon her pelt ran all the way up to her nose and across her forehead. The way her figure had an elegance and beauty about it that Nightstalk truly hadn't seen before. Even that pretty she-cat from ThunderClan that she had seen the previous day wasn't in her league. She seemed like stars shimmering at twilight. She was shimmering stars at twilight. But that wasn't the thing that clinched her appearance- it was the violence in her eyes. The way the feline hunter and fighter in her eyes was displayed just by looking into those pools of sapphires. Another cat to look out for one with brains as well as looks, and skill. Nightstalk felt herself immediately considering her as a possible member of her alliance with Thorntooth. She would get them a lot of fans, but he was certain that she would also get a reasonably high training score. Nightstalk hardly noticed the senior warrior sitting beside her. He seemed slightly dull.

Then of course, there was ThunderClan. Nightstalk had already seen a lot of their tributes- and she didn't like them. Mostly because of the fact she knew that they could be a threat to her ambition of winning the celebration. Two of the ThunderClan cats were awake, and they two were sitting together. The first was him: the ruggedly handsome tom with fire-like ginger fur and green eyes the colour of dappled leaves in spring. His muscles were clear beneath his well built frame, and though he was strong, he clearly wasn't stupid. There was a spark of shrewdness and cunning in his eyes... so it was odd to see him sitting beside he she-cat with him. The mottled brown queen seemed very different from him, in fact, they must have been polar opposites. Her skinny, mottled olive fur was vvery ordinary, but her face gave out no emotion whatsoever. You literally couln't penetrate the barrier she had formed in her mind, and there was something that Nightstalk couldn't identify in the depths of the she-cat's stare. Some kinda of... but before Nightstalk could find out, the ThunderClan female broke eye contact and carried on her conversation with the tom. She hissed with annoyance._ I got so close!_

Thorntooth, noticing the frustrated look in the she-cat's eye, started to talk. "So which do you cats do you think could be poissble allies?" he asked, slowly, his tail swishing along the dirt.

Nightstalk turned her attention towards him. "Well, looking at WindClan," she nodded towards the ashy grey tom. "He could well be a piece of work in the arena to avoid. Him if we can persuade him."

Thorntooth shuddered. "Something about that tom disturbs me. It's in his eyes."

"I agree- for she once." Nightstalk admitted, reluctantly. "I think he's lost someone dear to him, because there's a surplus of hate and grief there, I can smell it."

The tom looked surprised, and incredulous. "You worked all that out about a cat just by looking at him?"

Nighstalk smiled a crooked smile. "Another one of my father's lessons. _Never trust anyone until you've decided_ _what they're like, and how they could benefit you. _His anger could fuel our fight."

Her father's old friend shrugged in reply. "Whatever. How about RiverClan..." he trailed of when he saw the venom in Nightstalk's eyes. "Her?" he asked, choosing his words cautiously.

"Obviously," she hollered. "She'll get us fans, and she also seems as if she could be deadly." Thorntooth nodded in agreement, but didn't reply. For a moment, Nightstalk thought she could see something in his facial expression- regret, perhaps? She shook her head of the thought, and then turned around to realise that most of the tributes had already woken up. A reasonbly large crowd had been attracted by the prospect of the long day of training ahead of them. Nightstalk smirked, anticipating the moment when they would be given their scores the next day by the main instructer. They had developed a strange system for giving training scores. They were called numbers. The highest possible score was 12, and the lowest possible score was 1. A good competitor who had the odds in their favour would usually get a score of around 10 to 8. Of course, Nightstalk was confident she would at least get a 10. She would be disappointed if she didn't.

"Tributes of ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan and ShadowClan!" an commanding voice made all of the cats in the clearing turn their heads. A burly tom with a big, well built body beckoned them all over with his claws. There were a few roars of appreciation and excitement from the crowd: their entertainment was due to begin soon. "The training will begin shortly: first though, you will be escorted to your mentors. They will advise you in a plan of attack for the day."_ Mentor? _Nightstalk snorted. _I don't need a mentor. _

It was almost the exact same moment that she thought this that she smelt Thorntooth's scent fill her nostrils. "It's the tradition of the celebration, and though you don't know it, a lot of the ShadowClan victors wouldn't have made it to the last two if it weren't for their mentors."

Immediately, Nightstalk's eyes narrowed. _What? _A wall of hostility flowed out of her body_. How on earth could he have possibly read her emotions so quickly? _Instantly, she felt grumpy, and she turned back to the instructor looking sulky. "ShadowClan, you will find Glade, you're surviving mentor, to your left." Nightstalk realised that he was intentionally insulting her clan. Their other victor had died of green cough the previous season, but the gossip that went around had said that he had purposely caught it because he hadn't wanted to live anymore. Ignoring her thoughts, Nightstalk turned to see a smaller den, obviously designed to hold only one resident. She was the first to make the first move, followed shortly by Thorntooth and then by the more reluctant representatives of her clan. They had didn't have to stand waiting. A disgruntled voice echoed from inside. "Come in."

It was dark and cramped in the den, she found herself pressed up against the apprentice, Ebonypaw, at the side of the wall. Uncomfortable, she felt impatience swell in her mind, and then from the shadows emerged a she-cat with dark brown fur like that of a thrush's feathers. Her amber eyes glowed enigmatically in the inky blackness illuminated only by the light outside. Nightstalk immediately found herself mistrusting her. She seemed to look straight through them, as if she couldn't see them. "So," she muttered, walking forward and sniffing them. "You're this year tributes of ShadowClan."

"Wow," Nightstalk said sarcastically. "I didn't see."

For just a few moments, Thorntooth stared at her angrily, and he looked as if he was about to speak, but Glade beat him to it. "Determination, I sense in you, my friend." She replied, darkly, and apprehensively.

"You should-" Nightstalk opened her mouth to continue, and tell her just how she was going to win the games but she cut in.

"But also arrogance," she sniffed. "Arrogance is a weak point in the games. Some times, compassion is a good way to win allies."

"Did you win the Falling of the Leaves with compassion?" the ShadowClan she-cat returned just as strongly. "Killing doesn't involve compassion, it involves self control and discipline."

"What would you know of murder, Nightstalk?" Glade commented. She was clearly growing agitated: they had only been in the same space for a few seconds and they were already testing each other's patience.

"I know-"

"Too much," Glade snapped, suspiciously. And that was when Nightstalk stiffened. For a moment, a look of sadness took over her eyes. Thorntooth saw it, and looked just as surprised as the other she-cat. All of the other tributes were slowly backing away, avoiding the fight that would surely start soon.

But then, the sadness was gone, and replaced with rage. "You're meant to be helping me." She roared, unsheathing her claws and scraping them along the ground. "Step out of the darkness and look at me!"

Thorntooth immediately moved forward blocking the path. "Nghtstalk, you've taken this too far. Can't _you see _that-" but it was already too late. Glade had done exactly as Nightstalk had requested, and a horrible, squirming silence overcame the room. For all that Nightstalk found herself looking into was a pair of empty amber, sightless eyes. A realisation hit her like a battering ram. _Glade was blind. _

_"No." _She answered simply. "If you want me to step out of the darkness and look at you, it's one thing I can't do. Many cats have walked into this very same den and had the very same reaction as yourself. You are angry at being reaped, I understand that. But do not take this out on me. I am here to try and help you: if you except my offer, that is up to you."

Again there was another silence, but instead of allowing Nightstalk to answer her, it was Thorntooth. "Nightstalk may not," he glared at her for a few seconds. "But I certainly well. You know more about this celebration that anyone in the competition. You clan help us to victory: your advice could be very valuable to us."

Glade seemed to stare at him for a few seconds, before a grin spread over her face. "Nightstalk, first lesson. Keep your claws unsheathed and our teeth bared, Thorntooth knows what he's doing."

Immediately, Nightstalk bristled at being out shone by her ally, but she shoved her pride down. Instead, she smiled. "I'll do that, Glade." It was more of a threat than anything, and the two female's held their gaze for just a few seconds longer, before the tension broke.

"Right," the blind she-cat declared, "gather round, this is lesson one for all of you. You need to make a least a reasonable impression on the judges today, otherwise, I'm afraid, you're completely screwed." It made several of the cats around her tremble slightly with fear. "I'd say that the average for pretty much every tribute is 5, so if you can make that, then good job. Fawnheart!"

A small warrior stepped from the group, one of the other tributes. "Ye, yes?" she said, quietly.

"What are you skills? You're talents?" Glade pressed.

"Um… well I can hunt better than I can fight…" Nightstalk observed with a few glimmers of interest at the scene unfolding in front of her. Glade padded around the cats in front of her and asked about their strength's and weakness'. As she spoke, it seemed that every cat gained a small inkling of confidence in themselves. She praised them when it was needed and talked about how they could improve. It wasn't long until she had eaten her through four of them, and now it was just Thorntooth and Nightstalk.

"So, my friend," she asked, relaxed, when facing the tom. "What could be of use to you in the arena? What could result in your demise?"

Nightstalk eyes narrowed, though she would never admit. She was intrigued by the tom. What he felt and his style of fighting could be useful information. "I won quite a lot of spars with my clan-mates when I was an apprentice," he answered, slightly uncertainly.

"Good, good." She commented, as if she was drawing in all of this and locking it away in a safe within her head. "What about hunting?"

"Never been a fan of it," he said, thoughtfully. "Usually I rely on other cats to do the prey catching."

Glade looked him up and down for a moment, trying to assess something in his appearance. "How about she-cat's?"

He blinked, just as puzzled as Nightstalk was at her odd question. "I'm sorry?"

The blind cat sighed, rolling her eyes. "Look, we're meant to be concentrating on training, but the interviews are actually just as important for your public image. You're probably the most manly tom here, and you could possibly appeal to some she-cat's. I'm sure that the mentor of that attractive RiverClan she-cat will be having the exact same conversation now."

"Then no," he said, shifting his paws uncomfortably. "I have no mate back home."

Glade stare only grew more intense. "Even better, knowing you're available will raise some cat's interest. And anyway, if you're not found handsome, then with a bit of sweet talk, I'm pretty certain we could _make _you seem handsome. Do you like anyone? Anyone whatsoever?"

There was a slight moment of hesitation in the tom's demeanour, before he shook his head. "No: I don't have any crushes. Never had."

"Okay," Glade said. There was a note of disbelief in her voice, but then she turned her sightless glare onto Nightstalk. She sat back into a sitting position, with her tail curled neatly over her paws, awaiting the scrutinization deemed to follow. "Right. You know the question. Answer it." She said, shortly.

"I'm like to fight," she replied, curtly, controlling her temper. "Though, I do like hunting just as much, and I can do both confidently."

"So you're an all-rounder." Glade said. "Something tells me we can't play up the same angle that's optional with Thorntooth over here. You're personality is too cold; far too merciless."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Nightstalk replied slyly, letting her tongue roll emphasis over her words.

"You do that, darling." Glade muttered under her breath, luckily there was a shout before Nightstalk replied. _  
_

"All representatives for their clans in the Falling of the Leaves, could you all please gather beneath the High Tree for the day of training!" she recognised the voice immediately: it was that of Shade's. She cracked her neck and licked her chops hungrily. _Right then. _She thought. _Let's get this 10. _With the rest of the tributes hot on her tail, the last thing she did before dashing out into the hulking mass of other reaped cats was hear the words of Glade reverberating in her mind. "_You need to make a least a reasonable impression on the judges today, otherwise, I'm afraid, you're completely screwed."_

Up there, among the higher branches of the huge tree, was him. Shade. His black fur and deep blue eyes along with the false smile pressed over his face made Nightstalk resent him, even though she had a admired the tom for creating the celebration for pretty much ever since she could remember. She drew her face away from him and turned around to see the instructor begin to speak again. "This is your time to shine, tributes. This is the day you will have to impress all the cats up there, including our all mighty leader, Shade." They all looked to see the line of felines watching them from bird's eye view. "12 is the highest training score," he said. "the lowest is 1. My advice is this. Practice everything you had learnt, even the most trivial of facts could be an advantage for you in the arena. Go over herbs in your mind if you've ever had any experience with them. Spar with you fellow competitors; practise your stalking techniques. This only one rule. No killing just yet. You'll have quite enough time for that in about two days time." Several cats crouched down, baring their teeth, ready for the moment they would be allowed to begin. Nightstalk steadied herself, feeling completely calm. "Let the training…" the instructor paused for a moment to let his words sink in, and then he angled his ears forward. His tail flicked upwards. "Begin!"

Many cats began to turn to their reaped partners, and with their permission, begin to show there skills in battle. No blood was shed, just as the instructor had told them, but it was clear that this was more than a mere session. Losing here would make you look weak, and that was not good. Nightstalk, however, was very casual. Several times, she engaged in tussles, but they really didn't last long at all. Everyone she faced seemed to mostly end up with their face covered in dirt, with the ShadowClan she-cat's paw holding them down. Every second, she became more cocky; she even found it quite entertaining. After treating herself to a leisurely few minutes of stalking practice through the flowers, she even began to relax for minutes on end. Little did many of the cats know that the crowd of attention surrounding them were getting much more wild. They were all placing bets. Trading their fresh kill when the cat they betted on winning the fight lost miserably; Nightstalk was making the public win. Early morning turned into noon, and still she had not been beaten. The odds where in her favour. In fighting skill, she seemed to be miles ahead of everyone else in the competition- but there were also a couple of other cats sparring that were getting noticed as well. One of them was the ashy grey tom with amber eyes that Nightstalk and Thorntooth had considered recruiting: he had been beaten only a few times. Then there was, as she had guessed, the sexy she-cat from RiverClan. She was almost dazzling both her opponents and the crowd with her good looks, talent and witty remarks. Then there were two from ThunderClan. The well built ginger tom with shrewd, leaf green eyes was picking off cat after cat after cat. And the last, belief it or not, was the mottled, olive brown she-cat with cold, perturbing eyes that seemed to rip you layer from layer. All five of them had built a streak of victories- and it was coming to a more critical time in the training. Everyone tribute had sparred each other at least once, and now, real arguments were beginning to occur. On one occasion, two apprentices almost ended killing each other by how competitive they got. Evening was drawing in and every cat was tired, hungry and grumpy. There patience was being run short. But still, Shade insisted that they carried on training; Nightstalk even began to run out of steam.

But it was only when she was watching her fellow ally, Thorntooth engage once more with a senior warrior from ThunderClan that something really serious happened. Each other them were determined to at least pull off one more victory after the long day. They met in the middle, and really it was all going fine, before Thorntooth managed to rip a chunk of fur from his tail.

And then, suddenly, everything exploded. Nightstalk looked as their teeth sank into the other's body, looking for the opportunity to find soft flesh. Claws scathed across the other's chest and muscles. Blood fell onto the floor like water in a stream. Nightstalk couldn't help but smile at the two's ferocity: she was enjoying the fight. Most of the other cats were just watching in horror, and with disbelief. Thorntooth was dashing forward with strength, and most of his buffets were overpowering the ThunderClan senior. And suddenly, it was almost as if she was being hit over the head with a tree. Suddenly, Nightstalk almost found herself suddenly realising why Glade had asked if she could appeal to Thorntooth's looks: she _knew. _Because he was handsome, and she want to lean on his shoulder, feel his muzzle resting against her's. She wanted to entwine her tail with his and never leave him. She wanted to fall asleep, comfortable and satisfied, with him- her eyes widened in horror and shock. _No, no, no, what am I doing?_ _Oh Rookfang, I'm sorry. _Her legs felt weak. _You trained me for the Falling of the Leaves, Rookfang. You told me never to feel compassion, and never to fall in love. It would weaken my chances. How was I supposed to fullfill that wish? _And then, it was almost as if she could hear his voice, coming back at her. "Because, you're Nightstalk, and you're destined to win the Falling of the Leaves. Obsession is weakness to be ignored. Even if you fall in love, ignore it…" And then, she felt her sanity returning. Her mask of hostility and violence came back onto her face and she regained her composure. _He was right when he said that. _She told herself. _Love is weakness. Ignore it. You don't love Thorntooth. He is just handsome. He is just handsome. He is just handsome._

Looking up from her moment of madness, she realised that the fight had broken up, and that all the cats were returning to their groups of individual clans. They all seemed very relieved. The training must have ended. She sat down with her tail swishing over the ground next to the rest of the tributes, distancing herself from Thorntooth. _Don't even think about it. _She scolded herself. Then a booming voice echoed, and she looked up to see Shade, his eyes glittering. "Representatives! We have watched your training throughout the day, and have been surprised by this year's talent. Your training scores are to be revealed tomorrow morning at sun rise. The interviews will, as scheduled, take place at dusk. That is all." He nodded, smiling. "You may return to your dens."

Nightstalk did as she was told, keeping a pokerface, but still her mind wandered back to what had happened a few moments ago in the fight. Had it been painful to see him get hurt? Everything inside her head was fuzzy; nothing seemed to make sense. For the first time in her life, she was insecure, insure of what she truly wanted. She settled down in her den once more with Thorntooth beside her, but she ignored him, and allowed her dreams to lull her to sleep…

* * *

**WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT? DRAMATIC? I hope so anyway… I really did try with that, and as you can see, it's a lot longer than previous chapters. So review! Please, I really need them. Perhaps after this chapter, your choice of vote will have changed a little? Did you think Nightstalk just went insane back there for a few moments?**

**A quick reminder, the poll is open, and I appreciate your opinion just as much as your fantastic reviews! Interviews next chapter, and we'll be rejoining Ashstrike. And then… in Chapter Eight… _the games will begin._**


	7. Chapter 7: The Interviews

**Author's Note: OH YEAH! THE CHAPTER I'VE BEEN WAITING TO WRITE FOR A LONG WHILE. INTERVIEWS! Okay, it looks like this chapter is going to take place from the point of view of Ashstrike. I have quite a lot of ideas for what is going to happen for each of my main tributes, but also a few ideas for my secondary characters such as Runnnigsong, Thorntooth and Moorslash (who we're going to find out more about in this chapter). **

**As usual, they'll be a bit of romance in these games- where would a Hunger Games fanfic be without it?- some of the possible pairings that I haven't fully decided on are BlazeXRunning, and also, surprisingly enough, TwilightXBlaze. That was a pairing that the author who gave me the OC of Twilightfur suggested.**

**Thanks for review from koryandrs, Keeralie Starflight and Berk'sWarrior.**

* * *

**Ashstrike's POV:**

In the clearing, every cat was dreaming. All of the tributes had fallen asleep almost instantly after the shattering day of training; they would need the rest for their interviews the day after.

Well, most of the tributes were asleep. Ashstrike however, sat outside his den, staring up at the sky. The stars were shining enigmatically, and the moonlight cast eerie shadows amongst the trees: his eyes were closed, and he was thinking intensely. Just over the trees, the WindClan tom could see his home, up there on the hills. If he hadn't been intent on revenge against Shade and everything he stood for, Ashstrike would have been wishing that he was back there. At least on the moor, he had been able to sleep without being disturbed by death, murder and violence. His mentor, a small tom named Rabbit, had told him it was best not to think of home. The thought would only make him more homesick than he already was. Though this was the Falling of the Leaves, and it was foolish to show anything more on your face than absolute calmness, Ashstrike hadn't stopped himself from feeling feel sorry for his scarred mentor. Ever since they had started talking, the WindClan tom had noticed how his eyes were dull with sadness and regret. He had won his celebration far differently from any other previous victor. Instead of using his strength to overwhelm his opponents in battle, he had used his wits. Rabbit had started his training as a medicine cat, and therefore had a strong knowledge of herbs in the arena. He had stayed hidden in the undergrowth, placing dangerous herbs in obvious places so that other tributes would find them, and when they had killed themselves by eating the berries which they thought would be a good snack, he moved his traps to another part of the fighting area and picked them all off one by one. The advice Rabbit had given him had been useful in the training, and Ashstrike thought that he would at least be able to pull off an 8… he wasn't so sure about the other WindClan cats.

Sighing slightly, the tom turned around and padded back into the his clan's designated dens, and settled down into his nest of moss and feathers, anticipating the interviews that take place the next day...

* * *

A light slap on his ears awoke Ashstrike from his dreams: moaning a little, he gazed upwards to see the training instructor picking his way through the WindClan tributes, shouting loudly, "Wake up! Wake up! Training scores!"

Ashstrike got up almost immediately when he heard the tom's out-burst. Most of the other cats were just getting to their paws by the time that Ashstrike had dashed outside. ShadowClan, RiverClan and ThunderClan were all already wide awake, gazing up at the tree where Shade made all his announcements; the ashy grey tom growled. _You killed my mother, and you don't even have the decency to get up early enough. _"Hey, Ashstrike! Wait up!" He turned around to see his ally, Moorslash, stumbling out of the den.

He rolled his eyes. Though the tom was strong, he was also clumsy and quite slow. They had been friends when they were apprentices, but their bond had weakened ever since he had lost his mother. "You mustn't act so much like a kit, Moorslash," he hissed, rolling his eyes. "It's not good for our public image."

"I know, I know," Moorslash muttered as he sat down next to Ashstrike. "But in case you didn't notice, I'm going to die soon, so I might as well enjoy the time I've got left."

Th other male sent his ally a sharp look. "Who said you were going to die? You have a chance as good as anyone." Ashstrike then received a cold, hard and disbelieving stare.

"You don't think that," Moorslash said quietly, with an edge to his voice. "And if you do you're a fool, the best I can do in this arena is help you to win; don't say different!" The tom insisted angrily. "You've got by far the best shot at winning out of the two of us."

Ashstrike knew there was no way of trying to convince his adamant friend different so instead he changed the subject. "What do you suppose Shade will give you as a training score? I'll probably get a 7 or something."

"That's the average score, at least, that's what Rabbit told us the average was," he replied, stretching. "I might be lucky if I grab a 6. Obviously it's wishful thinking though."

Ashstrike tail lashed the ground in annoyance. "Why are you so pessimistic! Everyday it's like this: you just complaining about everything that doesn't happen in your favour." He hadn't meant to get angry, but Moorslash had driven him too it.

The tom's eyes narrowed. "I think I already gave you a reasonable explanation a few seconds earlier, Ashstrike-" he began.

"Yes, yes," Ashstrike snapped impatiently. "But that's not a good excuse for losing hope, Moorslash! If you tried, then at least you'd go down with dignity."

"Ah hah!" Moorslash growled, his voice raising to a shout. "So you do think, even if I try, that I won't win!"

The grey tom had already noticed the fault in what he was saying, but he couldn't back down from the argument now. It would make him look weak: many of the other tributes were beginning to stare and whisper at them. "You are simply impossible! I've tried to help you see sense, but you're just being difficult now."

Now, his ally was starting to bare his teeth with rage. "You're just clinging to hope! There's no way either of us are going to go back. That dodgy, trained she-cat from ShadowClan will probably just murder everyone in her path. You're not going to ever see the hills again, Ashstrike!"

His words set off a burning fire inside Ashstrike's stomach. _How dare Moorslash say that! _His claws dug into the ground and a low growl emanated from deep within his throat. The other tom dropped into a fighting posture and low cheers rang out behind them. "Fight! Fight! Fight Fight!"

But just as the two toms were about to pounce, a loud, cool voice echoed across the clearing. "Am I interrupting something?" They both turned their heads to the top of the tree to see Shade... at first, Ashstrike, flinched, expecting the dictator's cold, blue eyes to be filled with anger- but instead, he started to chuckle. "Ha!" he laughed, his eyes diluting. "What are your names again?"

_No._ Ashstrike thought. _I can't tell you that. _His body stiffened; he craned his head to stare at his ally, who had just opened his mouth. "Moorslash, sir." He said.

"Hmmmm," Shade said. There was a slight edge to his voice. "And you?"

"Ashstrike, _sir,_" the WindClan tom spat, emphasis dripping from his mouth. There were a few collected gasps of shock. He dared speak in that tone to Shade?

Immediately, the black tom's eyes narrowed, like he was almost unnerved by the fact that a cat had had the nerve to speak to him that way. "Ashstrike..." he said, quietly. "You know, you remind me of someone who was entered into the Falling of the Leaves a few years back."

Instantly, Ashstrike realised he was purposely trying to make him lose his temper. He clearly already knew everything about the cats who had been entered. Their weakness', and how he could make them suffer in the arena. For the first time since he saw the tom, Shade seemed to have lost his composure. Ashstrike knew he couldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction, so instead, he just stared forward, unblinking, right back at him.

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before Shade coughed and managed to pull a fake smile onto his face. "Tributes, gather round the tree so that you may hear your training score!" Everyone immediately packed together, and the crowd that had emerged from their dens to watch sat down, anticipating the first clan who would be given their scores eagerly. "First, as usual, we will start with ThunderClan!" Shade yowled. "First of all, Aspenpaw. 3!"

As the tom began to make his way through the tributes from ThunderClan, Ashstrike listened intently for cats that would receive high scores. A muscular, ginger tom named Blazewing with shrewd leaf green eyes pulled of the highest in that clan with a 9; there were a few nods of approval amongst the crowd. He had shown his skill at fighting and hunting in the training. But he was closely followed by a sleek, olive coloured she-cat named Runningsong, who grabbed a respectable 8.

Then they were reading out the ShadowClan names. Again, only two cats pulled off good scores, and the highest so far was given to Nightstalk, the cocky jet-black she-cat who was rated 10 by Shade. Another tom called Thorntooth got a 7. Ashstrike's eyes zoomed in on him more than the she-cat, because he recognised Thorntooth as the cat who had fought against the ThunderClan senior at the end of the long day of training. An increasingly tight not in his belly had began to form: after his outbreak a few minutes earlier his score had probably been reduced.

RiverClan! Ashstrike immediately caught sight of the impossibly attractive she-cat, whose name he found was Twilightfur. Many cats were staring at her and whispering, especially the toms: their sexual instincts had been aroused by her appearance. And then she got a score equal to that of Blazewing, a 9. She received a long line of cheers before she sat down; she wasn't the only one to do well in in RiverClan though. Lots of cats were surprised when even the apprentice of that clan managed a 5.

And then... he was announcing the training scores for WindClan. His muscles became tense as he tried to relax, knowing every eye was on his group. Cats passed by like a blur, and his paws felt weak with fright. _Come one, come one, you need to remain calm Ashstrike. You can do this. _"Moorslash!" Shade's voice seemed tremulous. "You have been given a score of 7!" The average! He nodded weakly his congratulations at his ally, forgetting their previous quarrel. But he knew who was next, because Moorslash had been second last. "Ashstrike, our final scored tribute of the day!" His voice was bright but his eyes were desperately cold. "You have been given a score of- 9!"

_What did he say? What was my score?_ For a moment, he had no idea what had just been said, but then the truth, finally began to dawn on him. 9! He allowed a small smile to flow over the top of his mouth, hardly noticing the shouts of appreciation from the crowd behind him. Moorslash flicked his tail over Ashstrike's ears and smiled. "Well done!"

It was the first time that he had seen Moorslash smile since the beginning of the reaping, but Ashstrike didn't react in front of the other tributes. His face stayed blank. "Thank you."

After that, most of the cats began disperse. He and his ally padded back to their dens where they sat down to rest. Though it was only reaching sun-high after the training scores, Ashstrike felt tired, and yet, he would still have to watch and have his own interview. In a couple of hours, he and the other WindClan cats would be sent in for individual training for the interviews with Rabbit. He knew that before you went on stage, you would actually have your own stylist team that would groom your fur in such a way that it depicted a style, intead of just keeping your fur flat and smooth. It unerved him slightly: he had never seen the interviews live from WindClan. Only the public cats who lived on the island saw what the tributes were transformed into.

Slowly, the sun began to fall in the sky, and other represantatives of Ashstrike's clan were called away. Moorslash was in fact summoned first, so he was left with his thoughts until a cat with a large, thick skull shouted gruffly from outside. "Ashstrike!"

He walked out of the den, glad to be moving his paws once more. The tom led him through the open plain and back towards a place he recognised. Rabbit's den. A strong aroma of cat reeked from rom the nest, and he could identify a few of his clan-mates scents amongst them. The muscular tom nudged him with his muzzle. "In there."

"I know, I know!" Ashstrike snapped.

The cat's eyes bulged stupidly, but before the fight could get serious, a voice echoed from inside. "Ashstrike? Are you coming in or not?" Ignoring the guard, he ducked under the branches supporting the den and stepped into the shadows. The only light illuminating the place was the sunset from outside, but the young brown tabby with blue eyes was clear enough. He was standing by the entrance. "So…" Rabbit said, interested. "I heard that you got a 9?"

"Yes," Ashstrike answered.

"Uh huh," he nodded, his eyes misty, like he was considering something. "You just received one of the best scores in the whole games, and that's something we can show off in the interviews."

"What do you mean? Show off?" Ashstrike muttered. "Do I have to go for some kinda of personality?"

"Yes," Rabbit replied, his eyes narrowing."We've already talked about that in preparation for the training!" He shook his head, impatiently. "I presume you have some kind of idea on how you could act in this thing?"

_No. None at all. Getting a 9 in itself was a small miracle. _Wracking his brains, he reluctantly obeyed his mentor and began to think about his personality in general. "To be honest, Rabbit," he said, slowly. "I'm not that friendly. Or witty. Or charming. Or merciless-"

"I asked for your personality, not your life story," Rabbit rolled his eyes.

Instantly, Ashstrike felt a glimmer of annoyance and rebellion spark in his body. "Hey!" he yelled, his fur spiking out. "You're the one who asked me the damn question! If I don't give you an honest answer then how are you going to decide what to do with me in this interview?"

"Easy," the previous victor answered, inspecting his pelt with a grim face. "Were going to try and figure it out. I'll go through the options, and you'll try to act that way." Got it?"

"Whatever," Ashstrike mumbled. He had to admit, Rabbit had done well in keeping his voice relatively cool. He didn't seem bothered by the fact the tom in front of him was almost seething with rage; that he would be able to kill him quite easily if he wanted to.

"Right," Rabbit began, cracking his neck. "I want you to act… let's see… humble." He proceeded to ask Ashstrike questions about his life in WindClan, about who his friends were and if he had a mate as such. The ashy grey tom tried to make his voice sound humble, but really, all he managed by the end of that idea was sounding stupid. "Okay," Rabbit said, tapping his claw on his nest of feathers. "How about we go for flirtatious?" That didn't work either. This system went on for almost a complete hour without any result. There was cold, handsome, distracted. Rabbit began to dig somewhere around clever and cold, but by the end, their efforts were almost completely fruitless. "Damn it, Ashstrike," he hissed, finally, he seemed to be losing control. "Just answer the StarClan forbid questions and try not to show how much you want to kill the crowd."

"Wow!" Ashstrike retorted. "Thanks for your brilliant advice."

He turned around to leave, but just before he left he heard Rabbit call back. "Go to the next den along: Mint and her fashion team will be in there ready to groom you."

_Whoa! I forgot all about that! _Ashstrike thought. Already dreading the moment he would meet his "fashion team", or whatever that meant, as much as he had dreaded his hour with Rabbit, he stepped out to see dusk was drawing in. A tail whipped across his face, and he turned to see the guard he had threatened earlier glaring at him. "That den." He signalled over to a den which was covered from top to tip in flowers. Ahstrike felt a jolt of surprise shoot through his body. It was certainly more- well let's say- upbeat, than the other nests. He padded forward, unsure; he gazed through the gaps of the den to see a group of she-cats whispering to themselves. Gritting his teeth a little, the WindClan tom stepped inside-

And was instantly bombarded by a mound of giggling females. "Oh! I wonder what we can do with this one-"

"-well, we can do magic with that fur-"

"-I wonder if his tail will curl nicely-"

"Girls, girls!" a silky voice echoed from the other side of the den. "That is no way to treat a new tribute!" Instantly, they all crawled off the tom and began to groom themselves, crying out their apologies.

"Thanks for getting them off me." Ashsrike addressed the she-cat who had ordered them off, who he guessed was Mint. His fur was hot with embarrassment at being caught by surprise like he had just been then.

"Nah," she waved his appreciation away. "It was nothing. They often act that way." It sounded like she was scolding her team, and they dipped their head's in shame. "So who are you?"

"Ashstrike," he answered, taking in thes she-cat's appearance. He couldn't help but liking her almost involuntarily. She seemed like someone you could trust. "And who might you be?" he asked casually.

"I am Mint," she purred, moving forward until she planted her haunches beside him, her tail curled neatly over her paws. "As I'm sure Rabbit, my partner, has already told you, I am here to groom your fur and make your pelt shine for the interviews." Ashstrike nodded, digesting her information. "The way we've done this so far is that we've mostly just been allowed to work, but something tells me you don't like being touched."

It was strange to hear it from another cat's mouth, but Mint was right. He had never… _enjoyed _making contact with other cats. Especially she-cats. That was why he had been so embarrassed when they had leapt on him a few seconds before. "No," he replied.

"Then tell me," she turned around to her companions, smiling. "My students! What method do you suggest that we use?"

"I think that we should-" one of the flustered she-cats began, excited. "I think we should help him relax before we do our work!" There was a crescendo of agreement from the other cats. Immediately, Ashstrike had his guard up. He already been attacked by them in one day, and he didn't intend for it to happen again. The idea of them helping him to _relax _didn't sound so pleasing.

"Very good," Mint praised them, smiling, before she turned back to Ashstrike. "Okay." She muttered. "Just try to close your eyes."

A wave of uneasiness fell over his body like he had just been hit by a gust of wind. Slowly, he closed his eye lids and allowed his tail to kink into a circle. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"It won't harm you, don't worry." That was the final whisper he heard from his stylist before a strange kind of forced- tiredness began to caress his back. Almost instinctviely, he snapped his head to attack the feline who was touching him, but then, when the feeling began to settle... Ashstrike found himself enjoying it. A long, low purr erupted from his throat and his claws began to knead their way into the ground.

Things seemed to happen in disorientated and unconnected ways as Ashstrike was massaged. He thought he could hear the familiar excited whispers from Mint's team, and occasionally a tongue grooming his neck fur and the space in-between his ears. He had entered a kind of trance, and when the massage stopped, the tom's legs felt weak. He wouldn't have been able to raise a paw in resistance if someone attacked him then. "Wha..." he panted, strangely tired out. "What in StarClan's name was that?"

"It's a technique I was taught by Shade." Mint said simply. Immediately, hostility began to burn in his mind. "It's a way he managed to extract information from cats against him in the war. It would relax their muscles and they would lose all kind of sense in the time they were exposed to it, allowing him to ask get any answers out of them without resistance."

"And now," he hissed, perturbed by the idea he had been used, "you use it calm all the cats who come in here so that you can prepare them for the interviews."

"Exactly," she said, _proudly. _Ashstrike's eyes narrowed. It was clear she had no idea of how what she had just done to him had affected his mind. He didn't want anything to do with Shade's powers and leadership. If he was going to die in the Falling of the Leaves, he wanted to die himself. "Well." The she-cat padded forward and sniffed him. "You look a lot better than you did earlier."

"Maybe." He snapped. _Sure I look great! Mint and her team of rabbit brains have probably made me look like a complete freak._

It was almost as if Mint had read Ashstrike's mind. "You may not think you look very good, but I'm afraid, your opinion doesn't count here as much as it would have done in your clan. This new appearance will get you a lot more fans than your previous one could ever get you. This is doing you good." Ashstrike couldn't help but feel surprised. He started to wonder about the stylist's past, what might have happened to her to get her in this position? Suddeny, her voice awoke him from his thoughts. "It's dusk: time to go and have that interview of your's, Ashstrike."

He gulped, nodding. "Okay." He turned around to leave, but he halted for just a second and called back. "Rabbit didn't really give me any good advice on what I should act like. Do you have any ideas?"

Her face contorted for a moment, but then she smiled. "Act like you've just done for me." And then she disappeared out of his sight, followed by the screams of she-cats waving their tails in goodbye. Somehow, he got the feeling that he would never see the mysterious she-cat again.

Ashstrike padded towards the shadows behind the high tree that Shade often adressed his cats from. All the tributes were pacing around, talking to themselves. They seemed to be running over out-loud what they were going to act like; how they were going to present their personality's. He noticed Moorslash, who was one of the only representatives who seemed even remotely calm... apart from Nightstalk and the other tributes who had been scored highly. "Hi." That was the only word he managed to say.

"What did Rabbit tell you to act like?" Moorslash asked, his voice tipped with tension.

Ashstrike snorted, beginning to lick his claws so that they gleamed more threateningly. "He didn't give me anything useful. Mint gave me a hint of what I should act like though."

"Oh yes! Mint!" Moorslash exclaimed, looking from side to side. "She was very helpful. I think I look a lot- well, different from what I did before."

"Yeah," Ashstrike inspected his pelt, and how it seemed to shine a lot brighter in the gaze of the sun. "I suppose she did make you seem different. It is just me or did she disturb you a bit." His voice dropped considerably at this.

"No, not really." His ally shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Turning his head, the WindClan tom noticed that a few of the other cats had begun to stare expectantly at the tree, gazing up at the branches fearfully. His eyes followed them up wards, puzzled, and then he noticed what they were staring at.

It was Crimson, the cat who he had heard so much about in gossip. His blood red eyes and smooth, charismatic manner were unmistakable. He hosted the interviews for the Falling of the Leaves every single year, and it was clear he was now getting on in moons. But still his personality was as cheerful, and disturbing, as ever. "Toms and she-cats!" he shouted. A roar of appreciation echoed from the crowd. "Do you want to meet this years tributes?" The cats below screamed their assent. "Then let us wait no longer. May I present, the first cat who we will be meeting, Blazewing!"

It always worked this way: the cats who had got the highest score in their clan would always be interviewed first, no matter their gender. As the ginger tom made his way up to the branch in which Crimson sat, a hush fell over the clan. His fur had been curved in such a way that bit made him look both ferocious and also appealing. The two toms went through the usual drill (asking about their friends and family), and the only thing that caught Ashstrike's attention about him was when he talked about his fighting scores.

"So Blazewing," Crimson was saying, turning his head back towards him. "What defines you, in particular, as a tribute? Where do you think you will dazzle your adversaries?"

He thought about this for a moment, before a merciless look overcame his facial expression. "My intentness on survival," he growled. "I was the best hunter and fighter in my clan, and if I can survive in the woods, then I can survive in the arena." Ashstrike shuddered a little. Blazewing had summed up his determination to live in just one chilling sentence.

The interviews kept on moving swiftly, and the rest of ThunderClan was mostly uninteresting, except for the freezing demeanour of Runningsong. She only answered every question with an occasional nod or shake of her head, some times she didn't give a response. Then there was a change: instead of carrying on with ShadowClan, they instead went straight forward with RiverClan. It was very clear who stole the show there. Twilightfur seemingly fluttered up to the branch as if she was an angel sent down from StarClan; it was clear her mentor hadn't had a problem coming up with an angle for her. She was seductive all the way. Every moment that she said something, the audience were on edge. With flicks of her tail and the flattening of her ears, she communicated her strengths and weakness' with ease. No one could have matched her stunning grace and style. But behind all that beauty there was someone who would kill without problem if it came to it.

Then there was ShadowClan, and the monstrous black she-cat whose spiky fur made her seem like she was completely engulfed in thistles. Again, her merciless and evil personality hadn't been hard to picture for her mentor and stylist. She truly seemed like the a hunter stalking at night as she leapt up the tree. Every moment she spent in Crimson's company made her seem more mysterious and enigmatic than before. She played up the whole "I'm definitely going to win" angle for all it was worth. And even Ashstrike had to admit, it was extremely persuasive. Her claws were sharp and her fangs were unusually pointed: Ashstrike had guessed that she had been trained by perhaps her father beforehand, but now the picture became even clearer. And then, there came the tom, Thorntooth, who had got a 7. He once recognised the tom as the cat who had lost his temper at the end of the training day.

Crimson was asking him about she-cats and females he might have liked back home. Thorntooth seemed to think about it a lot- even perhaps to long, and he blushed a little when he discovered that Crimson was waiting expectantly for an answer. "Um- uh no. Not really."

Crimson didn't believe it for a second, and neither did the cats in the crowd. They all screamed, begging for a truthful answer. The tom with blood red eyes laughed. "Well, I think you know what my next question is Thorntooth! Can you tell us the truth?"

The cat immediately began to shift, uncomfortable. "Well… I suppose you can keep a secret?" He addressed the crowd with this question, and Ashstrike immediately realised he was chatting them up. He knew that he would be remembered for this approach. _Sly little tom!_

"Yes!" Crimson replied, leaning forward. His ears angled so that they would receive his words loudly and clearly. "Is there someone you like Thorntooth?"

"Yes then," he answered. Shrieks of triumph echoed. "I've liked her for quite awhile, but she never really payed any attention to me. At least, I don't _think _she did." He had them right where he wanted them now. You could have heard a pin drop.

"Oh please, Thorntooth!" Crimson's voice sounded tense. "Please, tell us who this mysterious cat is! We all want to know!"

The tom opened his mouth to speak, but then he hesitated, his pelt fur beginning to settle down once more. "I'm sorry- but I think it would be a bit, um, embarrassing. Especially since she's-" he stopped immediately.

"She's what? Is something wrong?" Crimson pressed.

There were a few small moments of silence. Before he opened up his mouth and spoke loudly and clearly, the space around his whiskers deeply red. "She's here… she's another tribute…"

Ashstrike suddenly discovered that his mouth dropped open, as had everyone else in the crowd. _If he's telling the truth__…_ the WindClan tom considered it for a couple of seconds. _That means it's one of them. _He turned around and narrowed his eyes. The three she-cats there were all looking just as embarrassed as Thorntooth was, well, with the exception of Nightstalk. And now, the crowd had risen to yells and screams of shock. Ashstrike gritted his teeth. WindClan were up next, and he would have to work hard to regain their attention. He would be up first since he had got the highest score from his clan. "Cats! Cats!" Crimson yelled, angrily, calming them down considerably. "I would like to thank Thorntooth for his time." He was once again interrupted as the cats echoed their thoughts once more. "And now, we move on to WindClan! Our first tribute is Ashstrike!"

Slowly, he got to his paws and began to make his way up the tree. It was like he had cad a spell over the cats; they fell silent, noticing a new tribute was coming up for the final batch of interviews. They were eyeing him interestedly. He was the tom who had had the nerve to inset Shade earlier: he was the cat who got a 9. When he finally reached the top branch, he stared into those enchanting pools of blood planted upon Crimson's face, awaiting his first question. "So Ashstrike," he began, finally. "Would you like to tell us what you were feeling when you were reaped?"

_Be honest. _Trying to remain calm, he answered the first intruding query as well as he could. "I was surprised, and shocked at first, of course," he said, his voice cold. "But then all I felt was determination." He had tried to make his words as confident as possible, and he knew it had worked.

"I bet you did," Crimson nodded. "What gave you the motivation? Are you in love with someone back home?"

The question was inevitable, and he allowed a smirk to creep over his face. "Only with the hills, and the open air." He didn't know if his answer seemed foolish or not, and to any normal cat, it probably would sound stupid and cliched. But they ate up those kind of lines here, on the island.

"So," Crimson continued casually. "Would you like to give us an idea of how you plan on winning the Falling of the Leaves?"

_Yeah, Ashstrike, in fact, how the heck do you plan on winning this? _His amber eyes sparkled with a twinge of frustration and his claws unsheathed a bit. "I refuse to go straight out into battle; I prefer to use my intelligence and speed instead of just brute force. I might form an alliance… but usually, I am a solitary cat."

For once, Crimson seemed almost at loss for words. All his answers had been quite refined and un-detailed so far. His personal life was so far kept a secret. "Tell me Ashstrike," he said, smiling. "Have you lost anyone close to you in your life so far?"

_Shade must have told him about my mother. _The familiar hate and burning desire to kill nearly overwhelmed. _How dare you ask me that question Crimson! _He roared in his head; his retort was stiff. "Yes. My mother. She was killed in the Falling of the Leaves as a tribute a few celebrations back."

There were a few short wails of pity, but Ashstrike didn't acknowledge them. "For your mother, for your home and for your life, will you win this year, Ashstrike of WindClan?" Crimson said.

He locked eyes with him. The look was more potent than any venom. "Yes… Shade," the second word was quieter than his first. "I am going to win, and no one is going to stand in my way…"

* * *

**Ohhhhhh, quite a tense ending if you ask me! What did you think of that? I understand it was probably a little dull at times, but I thought a lot of it was necessary, and that was my longest chapter so far! Remember to vote for your victor! I really want to know who you guys want to win. Maybe your opinion has been changed after all the connection with Ashstrike in this part!**

**So what did you think of Thorntooth's declaration of love for one of the ShadowClan she-cats? PLZ PLZ PLZ tell me your thoughts of that chapter in a review, I really appreciate your feedback. Oh, and one last thing… _the games begin next chapter..._**


	8. Chapter 8: The Countdown

**Author's Note: So… here… we… have… the Falling of the Leaves! I'm pretty certain this chapter will be slightly shorter than all of the rest. It will be the second chapter from Twilightfur's POV, and it will mostly be just her thoughts as they travel to the arena, which is a place outside clan territory. But then there will be the countdown which should be quite dramatic and tense… hopefully.**

**Well read on, and may the odds for your cat be ever in you favour!**

* * *

**Twilightfur's POV:**

My mentor, a dark brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes had told her to get a good night sleep before the games began. But that was one of the things she had not succeeded in doing. Her mind was detached from reality; it was struggling to comprehend the outcome of the events which would happen tomorrow. She could tell that not many cats in the RiverClan tribute's dens were asleep anyway. They were all shivering with fear: the same kind of fear they had shown on their faces yesterday for the interviews. But worse. Much worse. A lot of them were going to die in the blood-bath. It was the stage when all of the cats leapt off their podiums for the first time and began the celebration. A lot of the weaker cats would run away from the clearing, desperate to survive for perhaps one more day. The stronger, more arrogant toms and she-cats saw it as a chance to pick off some of the other contenders nice and early. Twilightfur wasn't really sure what her plan would be for the moment she would get off the podium; she had never been in a situation like this before, so she had to ensure that the decision she made was the correct one. Otherwise, she would quite simply, die.

She sighed: it was hopeless. Rest wasn't going to come; she was for too distracted for that. Getting to her paws, she padded outside, ignoring the surprised stares from the other RiverClan cats. As soon as Twilightfur was certain that no one was watching her, she settled down amongst the rich scented flowers littered across the ground, and stared up the stars. She closed her eyes, and prayed silently. _StarClan, are you up there somewhere? _The sky above gave her no answer, but still she persisted. _You don't need to say anything- the rest of the clans may have given up on you, but I have not. I will keep the memory of my warrior ancestors alive through my faith, no matter what tries to stop me._

_"_Hey!" a surprised and almost shocked voice echoed. She jumped and turned around to see a tom standing outside the ThunderClan den, just like her. Instantly she recognised him. It was the ginger tom with emerald green eyes that had scored a 10. "What are you doing out here?" His fur was bristling, like he was disturbed that someone else was outside with him.

She too had been surprised that some other cat had dared to step out of their den, but she soon regained her composure. "I could ask you the same thing," she said, silkily and cooly.

The two cats sat, staring at each other, both trying to work out what they would say next. What they would do next. Twilightfur's tail flicked along the ground awkwardly. "So… what _were you doing?" _She said finally.

"Isn't it obvious?" he snapped, turning around so that he faced clan-territory. Twilightfur followed his gaze and realised he was staring right out towards the trees.

"Oh," she said, finally, shuffling her paws. "You were thinking of home." She padded forward a few steps and tried to catch a glimpse of the ThunderClan trees over in the distance. "It doesn't look very inviting."

Instantly, the tom was hostile again. "Well, sleeping on reeds and eating fish all day long isn't that appealing either." He hissed. She gazed deep into his eyes. In any different kind of situation she would have taken offence in what he had said, but really, right now, she didn't care. Though his face was unemotional, you could tell he was just as nervous as she was. Twilightfur could relate to that.

"Whatever," she mumbled, allowing her head and ears to angle themselves back up towards the sky. "I was thinking about StarClan," she blurted out. Quickly, she snapped her mouth shut. _Why would you tell an enemy that?_

This actually seemed to make the ThunderClan tom interested. "StarClan?" he tilted his head to one-side. "You actually believe in StarClan?"

"Yes," Twilightfur said, not daring to look him in the eye. "I was born after Shade came and took over, and there were still whispers of StarClan in RiverClan. I enjoyed listening to the tales about them from the elders-" she cut of her, knowing already she was giving out too much information.

She waited for his reaction, and soon it came. "StarClan never helped me when I needed them." He growled. "Having faith in our _ancestors _only made ThunderClan weak."

"Why?" she asked, curious. "What happened to make you leave them behind?" When the she-cat was given no retort, she decided not to press him anymore.

And that was when she realised something. Almost self-consciously, she had been edging her way towards him! There had been about ten fox-lengths between them at the beginning of their conversation, and now there was only one. A huge blush overcame her cheeks, and it was only after she had dashed, lost and confused, into the RiverClan den that Blazewing realised she had disappeared...

* * *

When Twilightfur woke up, their training instructor's head was poking through the lichen entrance. He was yelling loudly, "Get up! Get up! Today is the day The Falling of the Leaves begins!"

She narrowed her eyes, and got to her paws. At his words, she had felt a shiver flow through her body like a gust of wind. _Don't remind me. _There were black circles underneath the eyelids of many of the other tributes: it was clear they hadn't slept a wink. _I wouldn't have either,_ she thought, _if it weren't for that tom. _Immediately, she felt herself regret it. She couldn't think of that, not today. It would only distract her, and she had to concentrate. Along with the others on her trail, she moved outside into the open air almost simultaneously as ShadowClan, WindClan and ThunderClan did. For the first time in Twilightfur's visit to the island, the weather was bad. The rain was pouring and their were a few bullets of thunder cracking the dull grey sky above. A thick layer of tension engulfed the cats as the crowd roared their approval as the tributes padded forward. The RiverClan she-cat noticed that the cats had formed a tight corridor for them to pad through. As they entered it, it was like walking through a path leading into the jaws of death. Several of the apprentices from all four clans had began to give out agonised wails. Twilightfur felt sick herself, but she held it in. And soon, they reached the tree; there on the highest branch, there stood Shade, in all his glory. His jet-black fur and deep blue eyes seemed almost to be like a shield burning against the rain and lightning behind him. "Representatives! Today is the day that you will begin the fight!" A few more screams of assent from the cats. Their tails and ears were all twitching madly. Their claws were unsheathed; they were digging into the ground. "For destiny! For survival! For **VICTORY!"**

It was deafening, the noise behind Twilightfur's head. Struggling with the knowledge burning above her, she watched as Fang, the tom who had reaped her, step forward and begin to lead them back towards the tree bridge. She could just about make out Holly, Finch and Ice leading their own clans as well. She had to wait for awhile, for it took some time for the other clans to get over, but it was a relief as she stepped down onto proper ground once more, instead of the almost artificial plants on the island. The horrible shrieks still echoed above the rain from Shade's place. She realised that they were walking up the hills of WindClan territory, and that they would be soon be leaving the lake. Her heart bounding, she felt like running away.

And it was then that she felt the soft, comforting fur of a cat press against her. She turned around in shock, to see it was him. _Blazewing. _"What are you doing?" she hissed, hoping no one had noticed their interaction yet.

He was shifting uncomfortably. "Helping you."

"Are you mad?" she snapped. "You can't act like that in front of the reapers!"

Blazewing rolled his eyes. "I don't care. You looked like you were about to flee, and it would only make you seem stupid in front of the other tributes. You have to calm down." Twilightfur felt like resisting his touch, but… there was something about the shrewdness in his eyes and his handsome pelt that made her relax. Instead she just allowed herself to lean on him for just a few seconds.

"Thank you." That was the last thing she said to him before she slipped away and began to pad with her group again. Was it her imagination, or did she actually feel remarkably better?

After leaving, WindClan territory, the terrain became less moist and more rocky. The whole area was covered in stones, and after they left WindClan Twilightfur noticed there were many cats surrounding the hill, which was the exit to the arena. Once they padded into the place, it would be impossible for any of them to get out. _So this is where I will be fighting to the death. _She realised, inspecting the arena. Some of the boulders formed huge piles where a cat could stand up and see for mouse tails around. It was a barren place, but she knew there would be prey here. Enough to keep the tributes alive anyway. They kept moving along quite a lot of time into the area, and Twilightfur began to grow impatient, but it was then that all four of their reapers turned around and ordered them to stop.

In front of them, was a large stone circle. Quickly, she saw that there was one for each of the tributes. And the grass around the whole centre was stained with blood from previous fights. Twilightfur gulped. This was where the blood-bath were be. This is were the Falling of the Leaves would start.

Slowly, and tensely, all the cats began to move around, finding their place on the largest boulders. The few moments of clarity that she had had with Blazewing had passed. Now, her heart was in her throat.

Now, the long anticipated moment began. Holly, the ThunderClan reaper, began to shout loudly into the air-

"Ten!"

Twilightfur studied her adversaries, trying to decide whether to fight or not.

"Nine!"

Her mind hurt. _Come on! Just one last decision. In, or out?_

"Eight!"

She had to admit, it was tempting. Picking off a few of the stronger cats wouldn't hurt.

"Seven!"

But it could cost her… she could get severely injured.

"Six!"

Only a few more moments left. It's now or never.

"Five!"

But just as she was about to move her paws in the direction of the circle, she remembered something.

"Four!"

She had made a promise to StarClan. That she would keep their memory alive. No matter what. If she died here- then their legacy would be lost.

"Three!"

_I could survive longer. I wouldn't have to kill. _She looked at the cocky smile of the ShadowClan career, and the ferocious grin of the WindClan tom. _Do I really stand a chance anyway?_

"Two!"

_Not today. Not today. _Her eyes turned to the horizon, back to the way she had come. _I'll find shelter, and a source of water. I need to get the essentials before throwing myself blindly into a fight.. _

_StarClan. One last thing… if I keep you alive, will you keep me alive?_

"_One…"  
_


End file.
